


Farago or bust?

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Child Abuse, Drama, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Points of View, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-05
Updated: 2006-12-05
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 47
Words: 125,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: SEQUEL TO "If it made sense, it wouldn't be a mystery, now would it?" fic.  It might be helpful to read the mystery first to get all of the references.  After the angst of the first story, this is pretty fluffy at FIRST- then it gets more intense at times.  As before, I try to keep the characters canonical to the show.  :)  Features the gang...  Featured pair:  B/J.  Alternate season four.If you like it or don't- please review or email me.  I'm still working on this story (so it does, admittedly, wind a little), -- but ideas are welcome!  As, of course, is feedback!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“New York City?? New York CITY?” Michael is about to lose it, I think. “New York FUCKING CITY???” I glance around uncomfortably. We’re at Lindsay and Mel’s. Michael, Ben, Hunter, Deb, Emmett and a newly sober Ted are sitting around the living room. And, of course, Brian and I. Gus is crawling around on the floor, tickled pink with all the people in his house- although he gives a brief look of concern Michael’s way. Michael and Ben just arrived and, yes, just heard that Brian’s decided to move to New York for a job at a firm called Farago.

“Jesus, Mikey. Fucking relax. It’s not that far away.”

“It’s fucking New York City, Brian!” Ben puts his arm around Michael’s shoulders and gives a bemused look to no one in particular. One constant in Michael’s life has been Brian, and his crush on Brian, and Ben’s either gotten used to it or is resigned to it. “You’ll be a small fish in a big pond, Brian! You can’t move to fucking Manhattan- you’ll hate it!”

“Michael!” Deb scolds. “Be happy for them! Jesus!”

“THEM????”

Uh oh. Michael turns his glare to me. “Er… well, I’m going, too.” I say quietly. And I’m glad I’m sitting on this side of the room- and next to Brian- because I swear Michael’d take a swing at me if I were near him. As nice and all as it is that Michael isn’t going to be tried for the abduction of Hunter, and as happy as I am for the Novotny-Bruckner-Montgomery family that Hunter came out of his coma and is doing fine- well, as nice as all that is: quite frankly, I’d just as soon they’d never come tonight.

“Michael! Fucking shut the fuck up! It’s not like I’m- we’re- moving overseas or something! Get a grip!” Brian’s temper is starting to rise and he’s struggling to keep his cool. “I’m going to look at places tomorrow. I’ll find someplace big enough for all you queens to crash when you visit.”

“Well, I, personally, am very happy for you Brian.” Emmett says in his quaint but sensible voice. “You too, sweetie,” he says to me. Then he claps his hands in that queeny way he has: “And just imagine- we’ll get to go to the Village, and shopping, and the Russian Tea Room! And not have to pay for a hotel!” Emmett looks off dreamily and sighs. “Teddy, isn’t that wonderful?”

Ted shrugs. “Yeah, and we’ll get to be mugged by professionals- not these amateurish Pittsburgh lugs.” Emmett frowns at him and gives him a quick shove. I look at Ted. He looks pretty good, considering. I guess Blake was the group counselor at the clinic. When Emmett found out, he was terrified Ted would fall for him again. But Ted kept it on friendly terms and stayed the ever-dutiful boyfriend. And I’m glad for them. They’re a weird match. But they seem to work.

I glance back at Michael, who has turned his gaze back to Brian- and Brian is holding his stare intently. “That’s so- so- fuck, I don’t know! It’s so couple-y, Brian. It’s just so out of character for you. I mean, Jesus!” 

“Mikey, it’s not couple-y. He already lives at the loft- it’s just a shift in location. Besides, until I get on my feet, I won’t be able to afford a cleaning service. Justin’ll be my own personal cleaning lady.”

I smirk. “Fuck you, Brian. You can clean up your own mess.”

He snorts, but he’s still holding Michael’s stare. There’s something going on there, and while I know what ‘the obvious’ thing going on there is- there’s something else. And everyone in the room can feel the tension. Even Gus has come up to Brian and is leaning on his long legs, looking between Michael and his dad. Brian glances down at his son before looking back to Michael. “Michael, wanna go outside a minute?” Brian says.

“Please do.” Mel says. “Quit being drama queens in front of my kid.”

Brian breaks his gaze from Michael just long enough to give Mel a smirk. But he keeps his mouth shut, gently shifts Gus’ grip over to the sofa cushion, and gets up. His leg has healed a lot after the wreck- appearance-wise, there’s hardly even a scar, although he swears he’s going to sue for the slim mark that was left behind. But even he admits- there’s not a mark left on his head. (For which I actually heard him, in the bathroom in front of the mirror AND in a completely genuine voice: Thank God. I busted out laughing when I overheard that.) Anyway, every so often he winces when he thinks I’m not looking. He still gets pain in his leg, but compared to before, he’s a million bucks. And his arm… well, his arm’s newly free of the cast. It still aches- I can tell by the way he rubs it sometimes. But all in all, Brian’s back to being Brian.

I’m jarred out of my reverie when Ben whispers something to Michael and kind of pushes him to get up. Michael huffs and stalks off behind Brian and we all hear the front door slam. Everyone is looking at each other, eyebrows raised. 

“Ouch…” Emmett says, quietly. Then quickly changes the subject: “So, Linds, Mel- what’s on the menu? I’m starved and it smells delish!”

“Gus’ and Brian’s favorite: Sunshine Chicken. It’s chicken breasts cooked over rice and orange juice, with curry and dry mustard. It might sound weird- but it’s good. Got it off the back of an Uncle Ben’s rice carton back in college and made it for Bri—“ Lindsay stops short when Mel covertly shoots her a look. But Linds chooses to ignore her. “I made it for Brian and he loved it. I thought I’d make it tonight– in celebration of his news.”

“Man. It’ll be weird without the Stud of Liberty Avenue prowling Babylon every night, won’t it?” Ted says suddenly.

It’s quiet a moment as everyone lets it sink in. I hear a few sighs around the room. “It kinda will, won’t it…” Emmett finally says wistfully. “But,” he goes on, “he hasn’t been around Babylon very much lately. Maybe Brian was breaking us in for this news slowly by getting us used to that.” Then he sighs. Suddenly I’m flashing back to the time before when we all believed Brian was leaving the Pitts for New York. It got kind of off-color maudlin then, too. Funny. Brian’s friends can be such asses to him. But it’s so obvious that he holds a special place in each of their hearts. “And no Sunshine, either,” Emmett adds. I hear another round of sighs around the room.

“Well, we haven’t left yet.” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “You guys want to come tomorrow? Help us look at places?” If Brian were here, I’d be dead in about… 3… 2… 1… now. But he’s not. So, sue me. I invited them.

“Ooooo!” Emmett squeals. “Can we?”

“Can ‘we’ what?” Brian says from the entryway to the living room. I groan. I hadn’t heard him come back in.

“Your boyfriend just invited us to New York with you two tomorrow!” Emmett says. I shoot him a glare- and out of the corner of my eye I see that Brian’s doing the same to me.

“He what?” At least he didn’t correct Emmett’s vocabulary. Although, I don’t expect him to really, anymore. Thing’s are… well, things are solid.

“Where’s Michael?” I ask innocently.

Brian shakes his head, rubs his hand over the nape of his neck and then looks at Ben. “Ben, uh. Mikey’s outside. You might want to go out there.” 

Ben looks at Brian a little strangely but gets up and goes outside.

“What the hell?” Debbie says. 

“Mikey’s just a little… upset.”

“Just because you’re leaving?” Ted scoffs. He is such an ass when it comes to Brian sometimes and I bite my tongue. I want to say, ‘Well, what if it were Michael leaving? How would you feel?’, but I don’t want to embarrass him about his little crush on Michael. Besides, Brian could care less what Ted thinks of him. 

And that is evident by the fact that he doesn’t even blink or acknowledge what Ted just said. “So, what’s for dinner?” He asks, walking over to his place beside me on the couch.

“We’re having your favorite.” Mel sneers.

“Sweeeet!” Brian grins.

“Sweeeet!” Gus mimics, smiling and wobbling over to his father’s long legs to welcome him back. Brian reaches down and lifts the toddler to his lap. 

“Your favorite too, eh, Sonny Boy?”

“Sunshh chick!” 

Man. With all this banter, he’s still been following what’s been going on. That kid is smarter than hell, I think to myself. Like father like son. Once, in a rare- an amazingly rare- moment, I had said that very thing when Brian and I were sitting for Gus at the loft – and Brian had said- actually SAID: ‘Like fatherS like son.’ Yeah. My jaw dropped too. And no, he wasn’t referring to Mel.

At that moment, Ben comes in. “Um, sorry, everyone, but I think we’re gonna hit the road. Michael’s not feeling well and…” His voice trails off. This cannot all be because Brian is leaving- it just can’t. I mean, can it? It’s a complete overreaction for Michael to be like this- he’s completely happy with Ben and this is just out of whack. He’s a drama queen, but this is …

I glance at Brian, who’s keeping his focus on Gus. Without looking up, he says, “Tell him to call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah. I will. Hunter, you want to stay or come with us? If you stay, you are to be home by midnight. And you’re to come straight from here.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “I’ll stay, Mom.”

“Straight from here.” Ben repeats sternly.

“We’ll take him. He won’t be straight, but we’ll take him.” Brian says simply, making silly faces at Gus and not looking up. Gus is giggling and trying to make the same faces back at him. Hunter grins, looking at Brian. Jesus. Some things never change.

“Thanks, Brian. Ok, well, then- see you, everyone. Oh. Ah, Deb, you wanna come out here?” He says quietly.

Debbie looks around the room. “Jesus,” is all she mutters before she gets up and follows Ben. 

After everyone pipes up with their good-byes and ‘hope he’s feeling betters’, they leave. What the hell is going on, anyway? “Brian,” I whisper, “what’s wrong with Michael, anyway?”

“Abandonment issues. I’ll tell you later,” he whispers back, still being goofy with Gus. God, he loves that kid.


	2. Farago or bust?

Jesus H. Christ. What a fucking drama queen. I never ever thought Mikey would so completely lose his cool over something so stupid. I briefly flash to the conversation we had when he came back with Ben and Hunter from the hospital in Mamaroneck. Something had gone down at the hospital between he and Ben; he wasn’t very specific, but it didn’t sound good. He gets clingy with me when he has boyfriend troubles. I huff a little at that thought. How immature. 

Er. Hm, maybe I shouldn’t judge. But anyway, I chalk whatever issues the Bruckner marriage is facing up to the stress of being in the hospital with Hunter. 

But I guess it is the first time we’ve lived in separate cities. Well, besides that brief stint when he lived with David. I’ll miss him but fuck me, it’s just a day on the train to get there. Or 6 hours by car. Hm. That IS kind of far. Well, fuck, there just aren’t any jobs for me here. In New York, my reputation precedes me and this little Stockwell fiasco is unknown. 

I’m still making faces at Gus and I laugh when I see Gus make a face back at me – even though he’s just mimicking me, this one is so quintessentially snarky, I can’t help it.

“Brian??” 

Huh? 

“Uh… huh? What was the question?”

“Tell us about the new job.” Lindsay apparently repeats.

“What about it? It’s about selling shit no one needs to the masses. Same as at Vanguard. Just fancier shit and classier masses. Saks Fifth Avenue, The Met, Abercrombie and Fitch. Shit like that.”

“Abercrombie and Fitch, eh? Hell, if their ads are risqué now, with you there, they’ll become outright PORN.” Ted snorts. “Cocks sporting mini tuxes, guys blowing each other wearing fancy argyle socks...” 

Melanie laughs. Of course.

I ignore them. Jesus, Ted’s been chewing my ass all night and I’m getting sick of it. I shift a giggling Gus onto my other knee since he’s starting to weigh heavy on my still somewhat off leg. I jiggle him, holding his hands to keep him up and he goes nuts. It’s amazing, but the kid seems to like me. Genuinely like me. I see Justin and Lindsay smiling at us out of the corner of my eye. Gawd.

But really, it’s Gus that makes me want to reconsider this move. I mean, Mikey- I love Mikey. But he’s a grown man. Usually. I really don’t want to miss Gus growing up- I don’t want to just see him in even briefer snippets than I do now. I decide to push it out of my mind for the moment. I stop jiggling Gus and pull him fully onto my lap and he leans against me and plays with my hair.

“Are you going to be at the same level as you were at Vanguard, or do you have to work your way up again?” Lindsay asks, bringing my thoughts back to what we’re talking about. I note that she’s apparently also ignoring Ted and Mel.

Gus’ fingers are suddenly in my mouth so I mumble, “Well, I’m noth a phucking parthner. Buth I’m noth stharting ath the botthom.” I reach up and pull his hand from my mouth. I haven’t hardly taken my eyes off him since I got back in from outside. Justin says we look alike. I don’t really see that. Gus is beautiful. Innocent. A happy kid. “I’ll be making more than at Vanguard, though.”

Emmett, who’s been abnormally quiet the past few minutes, whistles. “More? Oh my God- you could SO take us all to Paris for Christmas!” He claps his hands like a giddy schoolgirl. Oh, yeah- his flame burns bright. Any brighter and we’d all be blind...

I shoot him a doubtful look and let out a short laugh. “Uh huh. Don’t hold your breath.”

He takes a big gulp of air, puffs out his cheeks and makes like he’s going to hold his breath. Ha ha. Funny.

“The cost of living in Manhattan is really high- so it will all pretty much even out to be the same as when I had my job at Vanguard and lived in the Pitts.” I continue. He lets out a whoosh of air and looks disappointed.

“Oh. Boo.” He sniffles.

“So, Justin- what will you do with your time while Brian sells fancy crap to the haves and makes a mint? Be a kept woman, or find a surrogate Debbie and Liberty Diner?” Ted asks. Fucking rudely, if you ask me.

“Ted, what the fuck bug is up your ass tonight? Lay off!” I hiss. He’s actually been pissy to me AND Justin for some reason since getting out of rehab. Me, I’m used to it and could care less. But Justin doesn’t deserve this shit. Maybe he lost respect for Justin for going back to me after Ian. I don’t fucking know. But it’s getting on my last nerve.

“Bugg up yer asss…” Gus repeats, looking at Ted. He’s got the snarky look on his face and I barely suppress a snort. My Sonny Boy.

Ted just gives me- and, fuck, my son- a look. “What? I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Uh huh.

Ted turns his attention back to Justin. Justin rallies easily and seems to shrug off the possibly implied snub. “I’ll look into art schools- there are some great ones up there. And I’ll draw. And find some kind of job in the Village or Chelsea- maybe at a diner, I dunno.” He pauses a moment, thoughtful. “I don’t think there’s anyone else like Debbie on the planet though, so I doubt I’ll find a surrogate for her.” There are chuckles around the room. God, he’s such a fucking diplomat. And right after he says that, Gus claps his hands- and, while I know it’s probably at some little Gus-imagined whatever, it’s so appropriately timed, I have to wonder if I have a wee genius on my knee. Justin smiles at Gus and I just want to kiss him. Both hims.

There’s a ding from the kitchen. “Dinner time!” Lindsay exclaims.

“Finally. Gawd.”

We all walk into the dining room and sit around the table. For some reason, I’m next to Ted of all people. Thankfully, Justin’s to my right.

“So, Brian, what was that Mikey meltdown really about?” Justin whispers as everyone noisily takes a place.

“As I said: Abandonment issues. He never truly believed that I would ever leave the Pitts. Not really. And now, as it seems pretty sure that I am, he’s not happy. He’s just being a drama queen.” I whisper back. I don’t really want to go into whatever it is that’s going on between him and Ben. 

“That was some drama!” Justin says quietly. Lindsay emerges from the kitchen with a platter covered in chicken and rice and hands it to me. God, I love this shit. But I only take one piece and a little rice. Haven’t been back to the gym in weeks so I have to keep the intake to a minimum. She frowns.

“Don’t you want more than that?”

“No. Thanks. Maybe I’ll have seconds later.” 

Emmett and Ted are chatting about something queeny and Justin has started in on his plateful so I steal a glance at Gus, who is being fussed over by Mel, getting all his meat cut. God, I really don’t want to leave him. But what the fuck do I do?

“So, what are you going to do with the loft?” Lindsay asks as she serves herself a huge piece of chicken and loads of rice. Jesus.

“I think I’m going to sublet it. I’m not getting rid of it just yet.”

“Any takers?”

“Well, I haven’t put it in the paper yet. It goes in on Sunday.” God. Small talk. I hate it.

\-------------------------------  
POV: MIKEY

Fuck. I sit next to Ben who’s quiet, steering the car to Ma’s first, then to our shitty apartment. How can Brian actually go? It’s just so weird. Too weird. And… 

Sigh.

“Why are you such a fucking drama princess, Michael!? That was quite the little scene you pulled off back there.” Ma’s ever-helpful comments from the back seat. But she’s right. I kind of overreacted I guess. 

“Yeah, well. I just can’t believe they’re both going. And to New York City.” I sigh again.

But really. I mean, really. I mean, when I went to Portland, I had David; everything was supposed to turn out. But stuff with Ben is weird right now. I need Brian. It’s been over half my life that we’ve been there for each other. He’s my best friend. And. And, well, I can’t help my feelings… Well, I don’t let myself go there since that night the fiddler fell off the roof. It’s pretty obvious… well, I just don’t go there. If things with Ben weren't so fucking fucked right now....

\---------------  
POV: JUSTIN (back at the party)

I glance over at Brian and I can immediately tell that he’s sick of the small talk, the dinner, everything. But seeing him with Gus- I can tell it’s more than the small talk that’s bothering him. He’s thinking about leaving his child. He’s mentioned in passing how he’s ‘kind of surprised how important Gus is to him’. But I know – we all know- how much he loves that kid. “Brian?”

He looks over at me, eyebrows raised. “What?” 

“Are you okay?”

He blinks. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look down.” I whisper.

“I do? Hm. I’m just a little bored. If I hear another word about Emmett’s catering, Ted’s rehab, Lindsay’s gallery showings or Michael’s queening out, I’ll puke.” He’s never been one to beat around the bush (in all ways that you could interpret that saying). 

Lindsay overhears him and gives him a steely look. “More chicken, Bri?”

“No. I’m fine. Justin, finish so we can get out of here.”


	3. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

I fasten my seatbelt and flip on the headlights. Hunter is already sleeping in the back- he had a few glasses of wine so he’s out of it. I shudder involuntarily when I remember the last time the three of us were driving together but I push it out of my mind. Justin is quiet next to me. Which, I know from experience, is decidedly temporary. 

As if on cue: “You’re sad about having to leave Gus, aren’t you?”

Sigh. This mind-reading thing is just a bit too much lately. “I’ll still see him,” is all I can come up with to say. But yeah. I am sad about that. And I don’t ‘do’ sad. I brood. I get pissed. I tune out. But this is sorta new to me. Well, new to me as an adult.

He’s looking at me hard. “Maybe you should… I dunno, Brian. Keep checking for something here…? Or ask Gardner if he’ll reconsider…? I mean, now that Stockwell’s wife was found to be a serial killer and he’s resigned- maybe it’s not such a big deal. What we did to undermine his campaign, I mean. Maybe he’ll take you back. You were the best exec he had.”

I snort at that. “I was a partner, who brought in over 50% of the clients.” I correct. “And um: No.”

“No what? That Gardner will take you back, or that you were the best there?”

“No, Gardner taking me back is not an option.”

“Are you sure? Have you even tried?”

“Justin, no.”

I hear him sigh and out of the corner of my eye I see him turn his attention to the road. “So, now can you tell me what the fuck was up with Michael’s meltdown? I mean, I know he has a ‘thing’ for you and all- but… But he was really over the top tonight.”

I chuckle a little. “Mikey rivals Emmett when it comes to being a drama queen. He almost even comes close to you- at least so it would seem after tonight.” Justin slaps me lightly on the shoulder in protest. “I guess…” Hm. How to put this… how to put this… Well, I’ll put it bluntly, I decide. Go with whatcha know. “Michael and Ben haven’t been doing so great lately. What with all the drama he’s created.” I swing my head slightly to indicate the sleeping kid in the back seat. “Well. Mikey’s just feeling a little needy at the moment, so I guess the timing of my leaving isn’t ideal. And we’ve kind of been there for each other for a little over half our lives. It’s just hard for him, I guess.”

Justin just looks at me a moment. “That’s it? That’s IT? My God, Brian- he looked like he was going to kill me! Kill US! I’ve never seen him so flipped out!”

I chuckle again. “You just haven’t known him as long as I have.” I say. “He’s had meltdowns worse than that. He’ll be fine.” 

I hope. 

That meltdown was definitely in the top 10. Maybe even the top 5.

“God. I feel like I should sleep with a knife under my pillow or something,” Justin mutters.

“Remind me to ask him to come along tomorrow- he’ll be royally pissed if the other girls get to go with us ‘house hunting’ and he doesn’t.” I pause. Fuck, why did Justin invite the freak show along? “Justin, why the hell did you ask them to go?”

“I dunno. They were starting to get kinda sad about you leaving. And me, even. It just seemed like a good idea.”

I sigh. Gawd. What a nightmare. But leave it to Justin to be the sensitive one about such things. All things, I suppose.

“So, what’re we talking about, gorgeous?” From the back.

Ah. Vunderbar. Hunter’s awake. Oh joy.

“Just about—“ Justin begins.

“Not you, asshole. I was talking to Brian.”

I catch a glimpse of Justin rolling his eyes.

“You know, Hunter, you could stand to learn a few manners.” I say, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. 

He smirks. “Well, I was asking you, not that.” He gestures towards Justin. 

“Whatever the fuck. You two just play nice for once. I have a headache and don’t feel like dealing with two drama princesses going at it with their handbags in my car.”

“So, we’re going to New York tomorrow, right? Wow! I’ve never been there! How cool you get to live there! Rich, hot, fuckable, and living large in the city of lights! You rock1”

“You’re going with us tomorrow?” Justin asks, a slight edge to his voice.

“Toldja you shouldn’t have invited the ‘Fam’ to go…” I mutter. Thankfully, we’re at the hustler’s homestead at that moment. I pull up to the front door. “Home again, home again, jiggidy jig.” I say, turning my head back towards Hunter, who gives a brief puzzled look. “Toodles.” I add. Yeah. GO.

“Don’t let the car door hit you in the ass on the way out.” Justin mumbles. He’s been pretty patient with this Bruckner-Novotny charity case, and it’s quite apparent that his patience is starting to wear thin.

My head still slightly turned towards the back seat, I suddenly find a hand grasping my neck from behind and immediately I realize the fucking kid is trying to kiss me. I push him away hard. “What the FUCK was THAT?” I’m wiping my mouth. It’s obvious the kid’s had too much to drink- by the kiss, and by the taste left on my lips. God. I resist the urge to spit.

“Heh.” That’s all the shit says before he reaches for the door handle. Drunk, he misses it the first time, then finally pulls so the door opens and he stumbles out, slamming it behind him. “Bye, Brian,” he manages before loping up the steps and into the apartment building. Out respect for the lovely- if not somewhat troubled- Bruckner’s, I wait until I see a light go on in their apartment, which tells me he’s in. I glance over at Justin. His jaw is set and he looks like he wants to kill someone. 

“Justin, he’s just a fucking kid. Don’t ‘do’ jealous.”

“Jealous? Of that little freak? Trust me, Brian- I’m not jealous of him. I’m just plain SICK of him.”

I sigh. “Yeah, well, me too.”

“And HE’S going with us tomorrow?”

“Hey, don’t look at me, idiot. You’re the one who invited ---“

“I know. I know. Just… just, let’s go home.” 

He’s starting to sound like he does when he gets burned out. I expect he’ll be on autopilot by the time we get back…. walking into the loft, peeling off his clothes on the way to the bed, flop in and be sound asleep instantly. Well. Me too. Some nights- believe it or not- we don’t fuck 4 or 5 times before falling asleep. Doesn’t happen often, but once in awhile, we fall asleep like breeders do every night of the week.

“Amen. Home.” But it won’t be home for long, I think to myself, sighing.


	4. Farago or bust?

BRIAN – very early the next morning

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Justin looks up at me, startled. “Oh. Um. Well, I was hungry. What the hell do you care? You won’t eat any of this anyway.” 

“Use a fucking fork at least. Jesus!” He’s practically scooping fucking fistfuls of my mother’s cake into his mouth. “That’s just disgusting!” 

He gives me a look. “Shut up. All the forks are in the washer.” 

“Then run the fucking washer or use a spoon- you’re worse than Gus!” 

He rolls his eyes and pulls out the drawer to pluck up a spoon. “When was your mom here, anyway? I found this in the back of the fridge- it could have gone bad.” 

Sigh. “No, it wouldn’t –I knew you’d sniff it out within hours. She was here yesterday while you were at the diner. You were so tired last night, your food-finding faculties weren’t hitting on all cylinders.” 

“What did she want?” 

“To say good-bye. To me and ‘My Partner’.” I say that last bit with a slight note of sarcasm. But I notice that I’m not balking at saying it like I used to. Whatever the fuck, I’m sick of fighting it. “Before we leave for New York.” I add.

Justin looks a little stunned. He blinks – I suspect more at my using the word ‘partner’ than at my Mom coming by. But he recovers quickly. “Really? Wow. That’s kind of unexpected, isn’t it? See? She DOES care, Brian. She just doesn’t know how to show it.” 

“Well, she said good-bye, and then followed it up with her norm- a shpiel about how I’m going straight to Hell. With you.” Christ. 

Justin grins- and ugh, his teeth are clotted with chocolate cake. I let out a short laugh. He really is worse than Gus – or close anyway. “Huh,” he says, “Well, at least we’ll be there together. Wouldn’t want to go to Heaven anyway, if it’s filled with people like her.” He scoops up another huge chunk of cake. There’s a short pause. “Hey, um. Brian?”

Uh oh. “Hey, um. Yeah?”

“I know how we can get out of going to New York with the ‘girls’ as you call them.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” 

I wait for him to continue but he just spoons up another piece of cake. Jesus, he’ll need to go to the gym by the time he’s 20. He glances at me and starts to look a little nervous. What’s up?

“Well?”


	5. Farago or bust?

BRIAN- 2 days later

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Brian! We can’t not go now- we’ve told everyone that we weren’t going house hunting in New York! Yet, anyway, I mean. They can’t find out we just blew them off!”

“I fail to see why not.”

“Well, for one thing, asshole: they’re coming up there in a couple of days.”

 

Fuck. “Christ, I cannot believe you talked me into this,” I mutter… And I recall the conversation from two days ago vividly: 

\-------------------------  
“Well?” I’d asked, both nervous and somewhat curious about what Justin had in mind to avoid a house hunting trip with ‘the girls’.

 

”Ummmm,” he hesitated. 

“Ummmm?” 

“Well.” ‘C’mon, spit it out Sunshine,’ I thought to myself impatiently. “Well: we can go to Maine like I mentioned awhile back- then we don’t have to deal with them going with us house hunting- yet, anyway…” He looked at me with a slight wince and with decided hope.

It was then that I hesitated a VERY brief moment, which I think is why his nervousness disappeared and his excitement level upped a notch: “Let’s DO it! Let’s go to my family’s cabin in Maine! Come ON, Brian! You don’t start at that new job at Farago for a little over a month! It will be so much fun! And the house is right on the water! And there’s a boat- two, actually!- we can take it out to this island called ‘Folly’ and picnic and—“ 

 

”NO.” My brain finally kicked in. ‘Christ, am I becoming retarded?’ I wondered to myself. He’s been trying to get me to go to Maine forEVer - but until that moment, I had effectively shut him down within seconds, no room for discussion. Why did that change all of a sudden? 

 

”Brian! It will be great- we went every summer when I was a kid! And it will be just you and me and—“ 

 

”—About a zillion bears and mosquitoes and horse flies and… and ugh: breeders. No.” 

 

”There aren’t any bears where we’ll be, Brian. And it’s so cool! Come ON! We can hang out on the beach, and—“ 

 

”Justin, there aren’t any beaches in Maine. There are rocks and barnacles and sea urchins and jelly fish. And the water is frigid. And the nights are freezing. It’s foggy or raining all the time. OR both. And… well, no. Just no.”

 

”Brian, really- it’s not like that! Well, okay. Maybe it’s a little like that. But there’s great shopping on the other side of the island in Bar—“ 

 

”Harbor. I’ve been, Justin. And Bar Harbor sucks. Teeming with blue blood breeders with their fucking old money, shopping for their yuppified Golden Retrievers in shit stores like ‘Bark Harbor’. NO.” 

“But, Briiiiian…”

\---------------------------------------------------

And it went on and on like that until the REAL whining started. And I don’t want to get into that, because trust me, it was NOT a pretty sight. And… well, and I finally caved. I hate it when he whines. It really ticks me the fuck off. And...well, and I hate it when he’s … unhappy. 

Plus, of course, I really didn’t feel like being stuck in a car for 6 to 8 hours with the Liberty Avenue freak show. It’s only a week up in the boonies, right? I can survive a week. 

…Right?

Sigh. I hope. 

So, since that little exchange 2 days ago- since I caved, that is- Justin has been like the fucking Energizer Bunny - and not necessarily in the good way: it’s not sex; it’s that he hasn’t stopped yammering. My patience is wearing thin. And. Well, and it’s nice to see him excited about something – he’s been somewhat subdued since his meltdown a month or so ago. Still, though- this is Justin in a totally new light- he’s like a giddy kid and it’s a bit exhausting. He’s like… Emmett.

 

Christ. 

 

“Well, you’ll be surprised- you’ll have a great time, trust me.” Justin’s comment jars me back to the present and I shoot him a look. “It’s a beautiful spot,” he adds. 

 

“With a name like ‘Pretty Marsh’, I find that hard to believe. Sounds like we’re visiting some place you’d find in… I don’t know, in the movie Shrek or something.” Yet another of Justin’s favorite movies. The kid has no taste. Yellow Submarine. The Addams Family. Shrek. Ugh.

 

I look over and Justin is grinning at me. He knows I’m just… being me.

 

“Have you finished packing?” He asks, changing the subject. “And did you remember bug spray? We’ll need that, you know.”

I groan. “Yes, mother.” He’s like a drill sergeant, I swear it. “I can’t believe I fucking packed a *backpack* and a *duffle bag*. Pigs must be flying somewhere in the world.” 

 

Justin just smirks and reaches over to turn on the dishwasher. 

 

“Great. Now we’ll have clean forks when we get back.” 

 

He ignores me, goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. 

“Let me give Mikey a call before we go. I know they’re coming up there in a few days… but he’s been… well, hell, you know how he’s been.” 

“Sure. But make it quick! Paradise awaits!” Justin is fidgeting with the shoulder harness of his pack and shifting from foot to foot- quite obviously anxious to get out of here. Sigh.

“’K. Gimme a sec.” I walk to the bedroom and make a quick call to Michael, confirming he, Ben and Hunter will be coming up to the (ugh) cabin in a little while, and reassure him it’ll all work out with Ben. Mikey’s been calling and stopping by the loft several times a day since his hissy fit at the munchers’ the other day. The first time he came by he apologized. We went to the diner, just him and I, to talk. He talked more about what happened in Mamaroneck. I guess Ben had laid into him for losing Hunter the way he did. Sounded un-Ben-like to me, but stress certainly can make anyone a bitch. And I’ve sure seen Ben’s bitchy side. Or butchy side. As has become a norm for me, I’ve been wondering why it is that the people I love seem to suffer for simply fucking knowing me… Hunter wouldn’t have run off if I hadn’t blown it talking to him on the phone… Fuck it.

I flip the phone closed and move back out into the living room. Or, rather, the big empty space that used to be a living room. 

“So: you’ve called Michael; I’m packed; you’re packed. Let’s go!” Justin says eagerly, still fidgeting with his ‘gear’. “C’mon! Let’s get a move on, pokey!”

”Pokey?” I smirk. “Pokey?? Hm.” I pause a moment. “OK. Shall I poke you before our excursion into mosquito country?”

He gives an exasperated huff. “Brian! Come on! We have to catch a plane!” 

I groan. 

Lord, he’s wound up… “Fine. Alright. Let’s get this over with.” He rolls his eyes at that. “Maybe we can join the mile high club on the plane,” I mutter as I go back into the bedroom and sling – gawd, Brian Kinney doesn’t do ‘sling’… not THIS kind, anyway-- but I dutifully sling the fucking backpack on my back and pick up the – Christ- the duffle bag and walk slowly out of the bedroom. Justin’s now all itchy and anxious at the front door, decked out in jeans and a tee shirt. He’s all bogged down with whateverthefuck it is HE packed and he looks so fucking excited and giddy that I have to cough to cover up an inadvertent smile. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Right? Yeah. Right. My ass. But he’s my partner. Or, whatever the fuck. I’ll suffer.

“Okay, I’m ready.”


	6. Farago or bust?

JUSTIN 

 

God. I mean: GOD, just the smell of this place is Heaven. It’s about 5 when we get to Bangor, and even this far inland, I can smell the sea. Brian walks up to me with the keys to the rental car and looks around. 

 

“Fucking hetero central around here.” 

 

“Shh, Brian! Maine is pretty conservative! We have to be careful.” 

 

He just rolls his eyes and hoists his backpack higher on his shoulder. Jeez, he’s been in a pissy mood lately. But I know he’s just being Brian. It’s all bluster. And he’s been pretty patient, actually. For Brian, anyway. I’ve been kind of… well, enthused about this trip since he agreed to go. This place is part of my soul, and I’m just so excited to show it to him. Share it with him. Maybe even make it part of his soul, too. So, I may – just MAY- have been a bit over the top lately. But fuck it. He can suffer. He has before.

I look over at him as he continues to examine the small crowd at the airport. It’s apparent that the small crowd is examining him, too. Well, the women are. My gaydar hasn’t ping-ed once since we arrived. I’ve noticed some of the chicks looking at me too. Ugh.

I stoop down to pick up my bags and look at Brian again. I have to smile a little. He looks so cute all decked out like he’s going to summer camp! It’s so funny to see him with non-designer luggage (you can’t really get more ‘non-designer’ than a backpack and a duffle bag!) He actually looks fucking hot and I can’t wait till we get to the cabin. “Come on. Let’s go.” I say in a low voice. Brian turns his gaze to me, cocks an eyebrow and gives me a small grin. He knows what I’m thinking. Duh.

 

We get out to the parking lot and find the car. Huh. He got us a Jeep. Like old times. 

 

JUSTIN- cont’d

I’m getting giddier and giddier the closer we get to the island. I’m driving Brian crazy, I know it. But I just can’t help it. “See that, Brian?” I point to Carroll’s grocery store. “That’s like been there forEVer! We used to stop there for supplies on the way in every summer! Let’s stop and get some food and stuff!” 

 

Brian looks over – his expression is one of complete, resigned patience- in fact, he’s looking at me like he does when looking at Gus in one of his snits. But I’m just so excited! He flips on the blinker and pulls into the lot. He’s hardly said a word and judging by his face, his patience may be running out. Well, again: he can suffer. He has before. 

 

I hop out of the car and wait for him. He’s so fucking slow! “C’mon, Brian!” He rolls his eyes as he slams the Jeep’s door. 

 

“Justin, will you fucking settle the fuck down? Are you going to be like this all week?” 

 

“Brian, I’m just so excited to show you all of this! This place is- God, it’s part of my soul!” 

 

He rolls his eyes again. But he smiles slightly and trudges behind me as I go into the store. As I enter, I look around. It looks exactly like it always has! “Brian, they have the BEST blueberry pies here! Let’s get a couple, okay?” 

 

“Can you eat a couple pies?” Then he scoffs, “Oh yeah. Forgot who I was talking to…” 

I just ignore him and plunk two pies into the cart. “Let’s get some wine, too. And crabmeat. And we can get lobsters here, or we can get some at Trenton Bridge- that place is incredible! It’s right at the causeway before you cross over onto Mount Desert Island- they steam the lobsters outside in these big… well, big steamer things. The smell is just amazing- you can almost smell it from here! Yeah- let’s get lobsters there! I can’t wait till you see it!” 

 

“Justin, do I need to get aspirin- or better yet, tequila- or will you calm the fuck DOWN?” 

 

Huh. Ass. “We can get aspirin.” Is my response. 

 

He rolls his eyes again. “I’ll get the booze,” he says, walking down the aisle to the back where the wine is. 

 

I roll the cart behind him, picking up various supplies on my way. My eyes fall on a jar of capers and I’m tempted to throw them in the cart – I want to make my Mom’s crab cake ‘divine’, as she calls it, and she uses capers. But I remember Brian’s not very fond of capers so I leave them on the shelf. Brian walks up with 6 bottles of wine and some beer and I move over quickly to help him before anything drops. 

 

“Okay. Let’s go. We have booze, that’s all we need,” he says with finality. 

 

“We need to EAT, Brian.” 

 

“Eating is highly overrated.” Then he pauses, thoughtful. “Well, eating food, that is,” he leers.

 

Sigh. I make a quick run of the aisles while Brian wanders up and waits at the front door. When I finally pull up to the checkout counter I see Bud behind the cash register. “Bud! God! I haven’t seen you for… God, for years!” 

 

”Justin? Is that you? Wow- you’re not a kid any moah! Look at you!” At this point Brian comes over and sizes up the old man, then looks at me. 

 

“I notice he didn’t say ‘my how you’ve grown’,” he quips. Fucker. 

 

“Brian, this is Bud. He owns the store with his wife, Carroll. I’ve known him since I was a kid! Carroll’s the one who bakes the pies!” 

 

I notice Bud looking oddly at us and I wince. I’m as out as I can be, but I really don’t feel like outing myself to Bud. 

 

“Bud, this is my friend, Brian. He’s never been to the cabin before.” 

 

“Nice to meet ya, Brian.” Bud says extending his hand. Brian looks at it a moment, probably biting back some sort of comment about breeders and germs, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything and just shakes Bud’s hand. “You’ll love it heah,” he adds. God, I just love the way the locals talk! 

 

“Hey, Bud, do you have a paper so we can see the times of the tides?” Bud reaches down and plops a Bar Harbor Gazette on the counter and begins ringing up the food and stuff. Brian is looking at me with a wicked grin on his face. “What’s your problem?” I say to him quietly, taking him aside. 

 

“Nothing. Just lookin’ at you.” 

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

“And thinking about what sort of things I could do with you and two blueberry pies.” 

 

”Shhhh!” I say quickly, reaching down to adjust my jeans- they’ve suddenly become a little tighter. And then I remember something: “Oh! Cool Whip!” 

 

He cocks an eyebrow. “Okay. And Cool Whip,” he adds as I turn on my heel and race over to the dairy section. I come back with the tub of Cool Whip and hand it to Bud who rings it up and places it in the bag. 

 

“$102.34.” He says. Heh- instead of “four” he says “foah”. I just love this place!

 

“Jesus, Justin! What the fuck did you get?” Brian exclaims, pulling out his wallet. 

 

“It’s probably so much because of all the wine you got.” I say simply. He hands Bud the money and grabs two of the bags. I pick up the other two and we head out the door. 

 

“Come by befoah you leave, Justin!” Bud calls after me. 

 

“Will do! Thanks, Bud!” 

 

When we get outside Brian puts his bags on the hood and goes over to open the back. We pile the supplies in with our luggage and then get in the Jeep. “Next stop: Trenton Bridge!” I say happily. 

 

Brian groans and starts the Jeep. 

 

“Brian, are you going to be a shit this entire trip? C’mon! Lighten the fuck up!” 

 

“Did we get aspirin?” Is all he says. I roll my eyes. 

 

“No. But we’ll have to - you’ll need it with all that wine you got.” 

“Actually, I want to get some Beam. Where do we get that?”

“I’ll show you tomorrow.”

 

We pull out of the parking lot and we’re on our way.


	7. Farago or bust?

Christ, he’s like Robin Williams on meth! Justin hasn’t shut up since I finally agreed to go on this godforsaken foray into mosquito-infested, barnacle-encrusted, Republican-ridden Maine. It’s really starting to get on my nerves.

“…and Dad and I used to go over to Bartlett’s island- that’s right across from us. They call that strip of water between us and Bartlett’s island ‘The Narrows’- in fact, that’s what my Grandparents named the cabin! But don’t worry – it’s hardly rustic. It’s got a full kitchen, bathrooms, even a dishwasher. They’d stay up all summer long. I wish I could have done…”

See what I mean? I swear, I don’t think he even stops to breathe! I half listen and half start thinking about the job in New York. God, what a nightmare, starting a new job. My thoughts shift to Mikey. I’m a little concerned about him. Mikey, Ben and Hunter are actually going to be coming up here to Maine for a couple of days this week. Followed by the munchers and Gus. After Mikey’s little meltdown the other night, it seemed like it might be a nice diversion for him. Things with Ben have been pretty strained since this whole deal with Hunter went down and he’s been leaning on me pretty hard. But he’s not facing kidnapping charges, thankfully. With Rita dead, it became a non-issue. I glance over at Justin. He’s still talking. Jesus.

“…We can camp, too, if you want! Oh, guess what? The Rockefellars live on Bartlett’s! They have a herd of cows, so when you wake up in the morning, you hear the water, seagulls- and cows! It’s weird! My Grandparents used to have cocktails with them and shit!” He pauses. After a moment, I start to get a little worried, being so used to the constant chatter. I look over at him. He’s just grinning and looking out the window. He’s so happy. I smile to myself, despite myself. “Oh, Brian, you’re just gonna love it- trust me! And all we’ll eat is lobster and crab and mussels—all low fat! We can go down to the water and harvest the mussels ourselves! Our beach is loaded with ‘em. And…”

Sigh. THAT moment of silence was brief. Still, as annoying as he’s being, I am glad to see Justin being like himself again, even if it is like himself hopped up on some serious caffeine. Mikey’s not the only one who had a bit of a meltdown recently. Justin’s meltdown a few weeks ago had him in a subdued mood for days- and his was, in my mind, more justified. After the car wreck, he started having nightmares and dreams about the wreck and the bashing. Now Justin remembers the whole night of his prom. Which kind of… is a relief or something to me. That night was spec… well. Never mind. I’m starting to wax lesbionic and I don’t really want to go there. I’m just glad he remembers all the good. Not just the bat to the head. Fucking Hobbs.

“Brian! Here, turn here!” I’m jarred out of my thoughts by Justin yanking on my arm and pointing to some restaurant with steamers out front. “This is it! Trenton Bridge!”

I sigh and turn into the lot. It does smell pretty awesome, actually. Maybe this won’t be so bad. All I have to do is slip a few Valiums into Justin’s beer later and all will be good. I’ve hardly stopped the Jeep before Justin leaps out and runs around to open my door. “Come on, Brian!”

Sigh. I’m sighing a lot, I think to myself. It’s now that I make a decision. I decide to resign myself to a week of manic Justin and simply… well, simply suck it up and deal.

We get the lobsters, load up the Jeep even more and I turn to look at Justin, waiting for him to give me directions. He’s even more giddy now if you can believe it- he’s practically bouncing up and down in his seat, grinning that beautiful smile of his. He’s looking around, just taking in the scenery- apparently oblivious to me. Which I suddenly choose to believe is not true. He’s just excited. Right? Anyway: “Um. Justin?”

His head swings around and his smile just gets bigger when he sees me; I have to smile a little. I wait expectantly. But after few moments of looking at him grinning at me like he has a hanger stuck in his mouth, I realize that it’s still not registering what I’m waiting for. I guffaw. “Justin: have you noticed we’re still in the parking lot?” He looks around again, confused. I suppress a laugh; it’s not sinking in. I try again: “Justin, which way to the cabin?”

He falters, looks around once more and starts laughing. “God, Brian, sorry- I’m just so—“

“Excited, I know, I know, Sunshine,” I laugh. “But as much as we’ve been reading each other’s sick little minds lately, I think me knowing the way to the cabin is expecting just a bit much.”

 

He’s still laughing and simply points to the road going over the causeway.

“Okay, that’s a start.” I chuckle, pulling out of the lot. “Justin,” I add, “you’re really going to have to calm down- your blood pressure is probably higher than a kite and you do want to live to see 20, don’t you?”

“That’s in two weeks. I think I’ll survive,” he smirks. 

“Two weeks, eh? I forgot,” I lie. I haven’t forgotten. No hustlers this year. I have a couple things planned, but he doesn’t need to know that. Yet. 

Justin sobers up and eyes me closely. I hate it when he does that- the kid can read me better than, well, everyone… and I don’t want him reading me right now. To my luck, he says nothing about it. “Turn here.” Is all he says.

I turn onto a small back road. Justin says we’ll be on the ‘quiet side’ of the island; and as I drive down the road, I can see that’s pretty accurate judging by the lack of houses to either side of us or other cars on the road. We’re driving through pretty thick woods and I keep an eye out for deer or other wildlife that might attempt suicide by leaping into the road in front of us. I didn’t get full insurance on the Jeep. Couldn’t afford it. 

Sigh.

Justin starts to chatter again. “Brian, you are so going to love this! The place is absolutely incredible! My Grandpa got the place back in like- God, forever ago. 1969 or something—“

“Justin. I was born in 1968.”

He pauses. “Wow.”

Uh huh. Thanks a lot, Sunshine.

“Anyway, it was really cheap back then, and when he died he left it to my Dad. And Mom got him to give her a week up here- I guess they’re trying to be friends or something. But she can’t go- so she gave me the key! Man, just imagine what Dad would do if he knew it was me- YOU and me- using it instead of Mom!” 

“He’s not going to show up or anything, is he?” I don’t think my ribs could take another ambush by that freak.

“No. No way. He’s overseas on some business trip or something.”

“Uh huh.” I silently cross my fingers. 

He keeps talking and we finally come to an intersection. We’re at the stop sign and I look over to Justin, who’s suddenly pointing at a house at the top of a hill, “…and see that house there? My Mom interviewed the daughter of the guy who had it built. Back in the late 1800’s or something- like forever ago-“ (I’m glad to know there are more versions of ‘forever ago’ than 1969)- “Anyway, it was really unusual for a house to be built that high on a hill back then. The winters were so fierce, the last thing you wanted to have to do when you walked out the door was trudge through four feet of snow JUST to get to the street, so most houses were built right on the road. But Mom says this guy had a potato farm going up that hill, and he’d be damned if he’d lose it- so they had the house built up at the top of the hill. Isn’t that wild?”

I just sit here, waiting for the shpiel to be over with so that I can find out which way to turn. Luckily, there’s no one on the road, so there’s no hurry. 

“So, anyway,” he continues, turning his blue eyes my way, “that’s why the house is so high up there- and his great grandkids now have a place with a fantastic view of the ocean.”

Huh. “So, what’s with this house with the horse run out front?” I ask, pointing to the house facing the house on the hill from across the road. Did I just ask that? Good God. His enthusiasm is starting to wear off on me, despite myself. 

He grins widely at me. “Eh, I dunno. They renovated the house that was there before. Mom said something about ‘new money’.”

I roll my eyes. “God, Justin, your family are such snobs!” I say. “You’re from a bunch’ve blue bloods, you know that?”

He smirks. “Well, I may be a blue blood, but I’m also a fag. I bleed the rainbow.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Okay. Well, I’m getting a little tired of sitting at this stop sign – we’ve been here for 10 minutes. It’s not going to turn green, so: Which way?”

He laughs as well. “Oh- uh, yeah. I didn’t notice.”

“You’ve had a very selective attention to detail since we got here, I have to say.”

“Turn right.”

“Thanks.” I turn and we start to go over another small causeway. 

“LOOK!” I’m jarred by the sudden shout from next to me and I slam on the brakes.

“What the fuck!?” I yell.

“Look! There’s a blue heron! Over on that rock! See?”

“Christ, Justin! You about gave me a heart attack!” Christ. A heron? I look over and see a tall, gangly, proud and somewhat handsome bird standing on a rock in the middle of the brackish pond on the other side of the tidal causeway. “Very nice,” I finally say, glancing in the rearview mirror. Luckily, no one’s behind me. Sigh: Probably no one’s on this side of the island, period. I push on the gas and we ease forward. 

“You know?” He says, “You’re kind of like a blue heron.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re tall. You’ve got legs that go on forever. You’re… you’re pretty.”

I roll my eyes. “Pretty? I’m pretty?” I guffaw.

“Actually, you’re beautiful,” he says.

I don’t say anything. I’ve heard this crap all my life. And while I’d fuck me, I’m hardly beautiful. Nothing like Justin. Or Gus, for that matter.

“You’re blushing! Omigod! Brian, you’re actually blushing!” 

“Shut the fuck up. I am not.” Am I?

He just laughs and turns his attention to the scenery rolling by. It’s not long before I see the ocean ahead of us- the end of the road. “Um. Justin?” I look over and he’s just smiling his sunshine smile at no one, looking out the window. “Justin?” He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Justin!”

He startles and looks over at me. “What?”

“Do I keep going straight until we’re eye-deep in the water, or…?” Huh. ‘Going straight’. I probably should have chosen better words there.

Justin looks around, puzzled a moment. “Oh! Jesus! I’m sorry Brian. Here- see? Number 95- that’s Grandpa’s mailbox- turn into this driveway. That ahead is the public dock. Only the locals really use it. Lobstermen and shit.”

I turn into the driveway and pull up to a cabin. A fern garden fills the back and it’s completely enclosed in the ever-present thick pine woods.

“It looks rustic, but it’s not so bad,” Justin says, pulling the door handle and getting out. He’s suddenly quiet. And I immediately understand why. As I get out, I’m struck by the smell of fern, the sea, pine needles… and by the profound silence. I look over at Justin, who I find is staring at me with a strange intensity.

After a few moments of looking at each other in silence, I force myself to smirk and go to the back of the Jeep and pop the trunk.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Justin says as I hoist my pack on my back.

“Quiet. And. Well, and smelly,” I say, almost in a whisper. To talk in my normal voice here just feels… too loud.

Justin snickers quietly. “Yeah. Smells like Heaven.” He walks over to me and pulls the pack off my back and drops it onto the gravel beneath our feet. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him in a gentle embrace. “Brian?” He says softly, turning his face to look up at me. “Brian, I am so happy to share this with you. I love this place. I love you.”

Shmaltz. I hate that shit. I hate the small lump in my throat. I ‘ahem’ and look into his eyes. Eyes that are smiling, welled with tears, and incredibly blue. And filled with love. Gawd. I simply smile at him and give him a lingering kiss. “Sunshine,” I finally say when our lips part, “I… well, I’m honored you want to… that you want to share it with me.” And I am- in spite of the fact that my shmaltz meter has hit its limit for the day. Maybe even the week. Used to be that this would have been my limit for the year. I guess things change a little. Smiling, he looks up at me again and one small tear wanders down his right cheek. “You, Justin, are a complete sap, you know that?” His grin gets even wider; I clear my throat again and kiss the salty trail the tear left on his cheek. Then I hear a sudden high pitched whining in my ear. “God!” I exclaim, swiping the air by my ear. I hate bugs! “I just hope I brought enough bug spray,” I add. Justin laughs and buries his head in my chest. “C’mon. Let’s go in- yes?” I ask.

I feel him shudder slightly. He looks up at me again, with that blinding smile, glistening eyes; all it seems he can manage is to nod. He turns and grabs a couple of grocery bags (food first with this guy, I think idly to myself); I pick up the luggage that had been dropped onto the driveway, follow him up the pathway and the stairs and wait for him to fumble with the keys to open the back door.

“Shit!” He mumbles. I notice he shakes his right hand as if he’s getting a cramp and I quickly drop what I’m carrying and grab the keys gently from his grip, simultaneously taking his hand in my left hand. I softly rub his palm in concentric circles to ease the tightness I feel there. Justin huffs slightly, frustrated that the cramps still plague him at times. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“Shut up. It’s not like you can help it.”

He looks up at me with a small smile, and I can feel his hand relaxing under my fingers. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

I smile back and turn towards the door and unlock it. We pile in and put the bags in the kitchen and go back to unload the car fully. We grab our luggage, such as it is, and Justin quietly leads me to the master bedroom in the back where we’ll be sleeping. And doing other things. We don’t say much, taking in the silence that surrounds us.

A sudden skittering overhead makes me jump. “What the fuck was that?” I shout.

Justin starts laughing, presumably at me. “It was probably just a squirrel on the roof, Brian! If that scares you, wait till you see a fox or an osprey or- gasp- a chipmunk!”

I just toss a pair of socks at him and give a short huff. Shithead.


	8. Farago or bust?

BRIAN’S POV

After we unpack, Justin gives me a tour of the cabin. “This is where I used to sleep,” he says, pointing to a room with twin beds and a view of what Justin calls “The Narrows”—an expansive stretch of ocean that runs between the island we’re on and the smaller Bartlett Island across the way, owned, apparently, by the Rockefellars. Huh. I think I absorbed more of Justin’s constant chattering today than I expected.

He opens a small door opposite the room we just looked in. “This closet has a bed, ‘cause it’s so big, but only the little kids have to sleep here when the house is full.” We wander back into the kitchen. 

I grab an apple off the counter and follow him into the dining room/living room. I cough and the bite of apple in my mouth almost gets lodged in my throat: the whole western facing side of the living room is windows and the sun is now setting low over the island across the way, painting a dancing, purple, pink and orange path on the rippling water. Out of the corner of my eye I see Justin grinning at me.

“Isn’t it incredible?” He says softly. We haven’t spoken much above a whisper since getting out of the car; well, my little outbursts at the… the bug and squirrel incidents aside. I slowly begin chewing the apple again and nod. 

“Yeah. That’s a pretty nice view.” All thoughts of Farago, Mikey, moving… all have pretty much left my brain.

Justin goes over and opens the front door and leads me out to the porch. There are flower boxes all around the wooden railing, filled with pansies and ferns and other such crap. Although, it is kinda nice... There are wood porch chairs and recliners and a small table. I eye the recliners and then glance at Justin with what I hope is a wicked smile. I must have succeeded in the look because he rolls his eyes. “We’d get splinters,” he laughs.

I hadn’t thought of that. But: “We have beach towels, don’t we?”

He grins and nods. “Later. C’mon,” he takes my hand and leads me across the open grassy area in front of the cabin to a short path is which dark from the dense forest on either side and overhead. We come to a very short pier leading out to a ramp going down to a dock floating on the water. Tethered to the dock at a short distance are two whalers. Excited, Justin yanks me down to the dock, which is gently bobbing up and down. I steady myself by leaning against the ramp railing. 

“Brian, you okay?”

I take a deep breath and smell the sea, the seaweed, the ferns and flowers, and I smile down at him. “Yep. I’m fine.” And now I see why you said this place was part of your soul, Sunshine, I think to myself. It’s actually quite… well, lovely, I guess. Gawd. I’m becoming a big softie. A big fat marshmallow peep, for Chrissakes.

“Now do you see why I said it was part of my soul?” ‘Stop with the mind reading, already!’ I think to myself. But I just nod. “And now do you see why I wanted to show it to you? I want it to become part of your soul, too.” I just smile and turn him around so we’re both facing the sunset and I wrap my arms around him and pull him against my body. He folds his arms over mine and leans against me, the wind gently sifting through our hair and blowing through our shirts. The sun sinks rather quickly behind the island across from us and we’re left with a sky of purple, orange, pink, yellow, red and blue. A fucking gay pride rainbow sunset, now that I think of it. Gawd. Debbie would love it. I shiver. Suddenly, the breeze has gotten chilly.

“Let’s go in.” I say. Justin nods and turns in my arms, leaning up to give me a kiss. Looking into his eyes, I notice that it looks like he’s been crying. Not again! “Justin, are you alright? You’ve been… leaking a lot today. And I don’t mean below the waist.”

He breaks into a mind-numbing smile and the tears well, threatening to spill. He quickly reaches up and swipes his eyes. “It’s just that this… It’s just that…” he shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Fuck, Brian. It’s just that this feels… perfect,” he whispers. I smile and lean down to give him a soft kiss. I feel him shiver. Gawd. Shmaltz. I hate it. Justin seems to thrive on it at the moment. It's like he can't even help it. 'Cause I suspect he'd try, since he knows how much I detest it. Usually detest it. 

“C’mon, you sap. Let’s go inside before we freeze our asses off. And it gets too dark to see where we’re going.” I turn and start up the ramp- and stop cold. “What’s that place?”

“Oh, there are actually three cabins on our land. That’s called the ‘Little House’, or ‘Honeymoon Cabin’ or ‘Guest House.’ There’s another at the top of the hill, a bit further away from the water, called the ‘Look Out’.”

“Huh.” I continue up, Justin following, and we gratefully enter the warmth of the cabin where we’ll be staying. “I think I’ll make a fire.” I say, eyeing the wood next to the fireplace.

“You know how to do that?”

I scoff. “I can do a lot of things, Sunshine. I was in the boy scouts, you know. And besides, when he wasn’t drunk and beating on me, my Dad actually did take me camping.”

Justin frowns a moment at the reference. “Christ, Brian. Your Dad was such a fuck.”

“Yeah, well. Forget it. But, at least I know how to build a fire,” I say, stooping down next to the fireplace. I feel a sudden thwack against my ass and spin around to see Justin grinning at me. 

“I’ll start dinner.” He says, smiling.


	9. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

Sigh. I am so elated right now. I know Brian must think I’m a freak or something. All day long I’ve been grinning like an idiot one minute then fucking crying like a little girl the next. All because I’m just so fucking happy. Brian’s been really patient and he hasn’t called me any names yet. Well, except he called me a sap. Which, if I let myself admit it, is true. That’s the problem with having a non-conventional, non-defined boyfriend like Brian: He’s brutally honest. But I guess being a sap is not so bad. 

We just got inside from watching the sunset. And yeah. I started crying. It’s so… I dunno. It’s magical here, and I can tell Brian’s impressed. I really want him to love it as much as I do. I don’t share this place with anyone but my family. Well, now, I guess that actually still holds. 'Gawd', as Brian would say. I’m getting awfully schmaltzy. But this is the perfect diversion before we head to New York. Luckily Brian’s in the living room building a fire and doesn’t see me getting all misty this time. I shake my head and force myself to focus on what I’m doing: preparing dinner. 

“Brian?” I call.

“Shit! Ow!” Is the only response I get.

“Hey, Brian!”

Brian rounds the corner sucking on his index finger and looking agitated. “Fucking goddamn kindling!” 

I laugh. “The great Brian Kinney – taken down by a stick of kindling.”

He just shoots me an exasperated look and puts his finger under the faucet. “Splinter,” he says simply.

I put down the lobster I was holding and walk over to the sink to see his finger. “Here, let me see.” I hold up his finger to examine it. “There’s no splinter, Brian.”

“It must have worked its way out. I sucked it pretty hard.”

Huh. 

Huh…

I’m suddenly very aware of how close I am to Brian and I slowly raise my eyes to see Brian looking down at me with a very intense and wicked glint in his eye. Oddly, I feel my knees start to buckle.

“Whoa! Hey!” Brian says suddenly as he catches me before I fall. “What the fuck!”

I stand fully and feel my face get warm. “Um. I think I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten since the plane.” Hell if I’ll tell him he still has such a freakish mind numbing affect on me. And actually, it really has been kind of a big day, and I got almost no sleep last night. Since the bashing, I still sometimes get woozy when I haven’t slept well. And unfortunately- or fortunately- Brian knows that. Knows just about everything there is to know about me, actually.

“Justin.” Brian looks at me with concern. 

“It’s fine, Brian. I’M fine. Really.”

Suddenly Brian’s cell goes off. “Christ.” He mutters, reaching into his coat, bringing out his phone and flipping it open. “It’s Mikey,” he mouths as he rolls his eyes.

“Take it. I’ll get dinner on the table.” I whisper.

He rounds the corner into the living room to take the call. I don’t mind all the demands Michael’s making on Brian’s time- but this is getting kind of old. I sigh and shrug. Whatever. I know Michael was there for Brian a lot while I was in my utterly deluded Ethan phase. Fucking Ian. What was I fucking thinking? I wince at the memory and push it out of my mind. 

As I get the dinner loaded onto the dining room table I overhear Brian. The dining room and living room are really the same room, so I’m not eavesdropping. But I am admittedly curious.

“Mikey- Mikey, calm the fuck down! You’re overreacting! No- just – Mikey, stop it. Calm down!” Brian sinks into a chair overlooking the Narrows and rubs his eyes with his free hand. “Michael? Michael. Michael! You want me to what? I just GOT here, for Chrissakes, Mi--” he pauses again. “Mi—“ he tries again.

Fuck me. ‘What the hell is it now?’ I think to myself. This was supposed to be at least a couple days of just Brian and I before we have to deal with Michael and the others, before we have to deal with going to New York and Brian starting at Farago. I finish up setting the table and go to get the wine, opening it to let it breathe. 

I head back into the living room and sit in a chair next to Brian. Now he’s leaning on his legs with his elbows, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed. He looks positively stressed. He hasn’t said anything for a little while. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Mikey. Fine. You know---“ Pause. “Mikey---“ Another pause. Really: What the hell? “Fine.” He says with a resigned note. “Listen, Michael, I’m hanging up now. Calm down and call me back when you can have a rational conversation. Christ.” He pauses again. “Yes. Yes, fine. But I’ll have to talk to Justin first, Michael.”

Part of me is feeling: Uh oh. Part of me is feeling thrilled that Brian would say he 'has to talk to Justin' about ANYthing... 

He flips the phone closed. “Jesus H.” He mutters, opening his eyes and sighing. He suddenly notices me right next to him. He smiles weakly. “Smells great,” he says in a small voice. 

“Thanks. But I didn't cook. Want some wine?” 

“Fuck yes- wine and lots of it.” He says emphatically. 

But I don’t get up. “And…er... Brian, what’s going on?” I add.

“It’s not important right now. We can talk about it later.” I watch as he casts a glance out the window. It’s dark now though, so it’s just the room’s reflection he can see. He suddenly looks tired.

“Brian…”

“Really, Justin- it’s for shit- you don’t want to know. Yet, anyway. And let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?”

He looks distressed, so I simply get up and get the glasses, pouring the wine. I go over and hand him a full glass. “Um, dinner can wait a moment.” I say. I really want to know what that was all about so I’m not giving up that easily. 

He looks at me as the fire crackles behind him. He’s so fucking beautiful; I smile at him softly. You know? Herons don’t hold a candle to him. He smiles back, pulls me to sit on his ‘good’ leg and kisses me gently. 

“What’s going on, Brian?” I say quietly, pulling back slightly. “It’s obvious that Michael was going on about something… and it’s bothering you. Can I help?” 

He sighs. “No. It’s just that things between Michael and Ben have gone from bad to worse. He wants me to go back to the Pitts.” 

Fuck- it’s what I thought! “Shit! Brian, no! We just got here!” This has started out so wonderfully- It can’t end already!

“Relax. I said I’d talk to you first. Maybe he could just come up here a little earlier or something? Before Ben and Hunter…?” His voice trails off and he looks at me helplessly. I sigh. I can see how torn he is. He doesn’t look helpless very often. He’d have shut Michael down if Michael hadn’t been pretty weird just now.

I reach up and stroke his cheek. “Anything- just so we don’t have to leave yet…” I say quietly.

He leans into my hand, closes his eyes and sighs. Not only is he torn- he’s exhausted. Now that I realize it, we both haven’t had much sleep lately. “Justin,” he finally says, opening his eyes, “I wouldn’t even mention any of this to you except that this time, even I have to admit that Michael was fucking Weird with a capital “W”. I haven’t heard him like this before. It kind of freaked me out.” 

“Why, what did he say?”

Brian snorts a little and smiles. “Let’s just eat and forget about it for now, ‘k? Enjoy some of that Trenton Bridge lobster and Carroll wine and blueberry pie?”

I smile back, getting up. I lean down and kiss the slight worry lines on his forehead. I can see his concern overtly —when it comes to something bad going down with Michael (and me, I’ve heard), Brian’s not as good at hiding his feelings as usual. I reach down and pull him up with me. “’K. Let’s eat.”


	10. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN  
We go over and sit at the table. He still looks slightly concerned but I think he’s slowly letting go of his worry about Michael, at least for now. I light the candles. “Hey, how ‘bout some music? Something soft?” I realize I’m pushing it. While it’s not really been OVERT lovey dovey crap, I realize that Brian’s shmaltz meter has probably exceeded its limit for the day- probably even the week. Hell, it used to be that today’s level of schmaltz would have been his limit for the year. I smile. I guess things change a little. Still, I eye him warily after asking.

“Um, Justin.” Brian says slowly, cautiously. 

“C’mon, Brian – it’s SO quiet; some music would be nice.”

Brian looks at me a moment and pauses. And, as I knew he would, he realizes that I’m right. Maine is incredibly quiet- ESPECIALLY at night. It can be creepy, even, if you’re alone. He sighs, gets up, goes over to the portable cd player and rummages through the box of cds he brought. “Huh… didn’t know I packed this one,” he mutters to himself. I cock an eyebrow and watch him, pretending to busy myself with the table setting. He pops the cd in, hits play and comes back to his seat at the table. He’s still distracted by… well, I assume the call he just got, and he sits and fusses with his napkin, not noticing me watching him. 

Then, upon hearing the first strains of music my mouth drops. Oh. My. God. He read my mind- and in this case, it’s downright freaky. It’s similar to if he knew exactly how to get to the cabin from the airport without me telling him. I never would have expected him to even know of this music, let alone OWN it…: He put on Vaughn Williams' ‘The Lark.’ It’s something my Mom used to play when we were up here. 

“Bri…” I say softly. 

He looks up at me, confused- then concerned. “What? What’s wrong? Do you feel faint again? Justin?” Brian gets up quickly and moves around the table, putting his arms around me.

I want to reassure him, but I’m speechless. All thoughts of Michael and other worries leave my brain and I’m right back to being the shmaltz-ridden freak I seem to have become as of 2-3 days ago. I finally snap out of it, wrapping my arms around him. I look up into his worried eyes and smile, “Sorry- I’m fine, Brian- just stunned, is all. Where did you get this cd, Brian? I didn’t know… I…” I stammer, “I mean, it’s beautiful. Brian, I love ‘The Lark’. I’m amazed! Not many people have heard of it! And it’s like you’re reading my mind—Mom used to play that all the time up here! It’s like the theme for Maine to me!”

He smiles a little, his concern still slightly clouding his features. “Well, as you know, our little brains seem to have developed a creepy kind of telepathy; and I dunno, the fact is that I really like this music when I’m trying to relax. Although, the violin part has stopped being to my liking, as of late.”

I smirk. “Let that go and enjoy the fucking music, Brian. Violin music is beautiful. Paganini Junior is over, gone, done, dead to me.” I still shudder when I think of that jacked up phase of my life. I cannot fathom what I was thinking back then. I honestly can’t.

Brian just smiles. And I know that whole deal doesn’t bother him like it used to. He releases me and glances back at the candles. “Jesus, Justin,” he says, taking a step towards the light switch. “What the fuck is it with you and candles? We went through this not long ago. Candlelight is for 1804. ELECTRICITY is for 2004.” With that, he flips on the light. Sigh. But, like the last time ‘we went through this’, I don’t care: The candles are still lit. I’m happy. He goes back, takes his seat and looks at me, the candlelight flickering in his bright hazel eyes. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

He grabs a lobster claw and picks out the meat. “This is pretty good,” he says absently, gazing at me before turning his attention fully to his food. “Low fat, eh?” He adds.

“Uh huh.” I say, watching as he pops a succulent morsel into his mouth. His lips are red and glistening slightly with the remnants of butter from the lobster. Yum. I’m transfixed. And I suddenly want to sketch him.

He looks at me quizzically. “Justin?” 

Huh?

“Justin?” He says again.

“Huh? Sorry. What?”

“You’re staring at me like a lunatic. You’re giving me that look you give when I wake up to find you’ve been watching me sleep. It’s… weird. What’s up?”

I feel my face get warm. I wish I was tan like Brian- my blushing wouldn’t be so obvious. “Uh… I dunno. I’m just enjoying the dinner, I guess.”

He smirks and slurps up another small chunk of meat. “How’s yours?” He asks, gesturing towards my lobster. 

“Fabulous.” I say slowly. I’m still watching his lips and eyes catch the candlelight. God. I’m suddenly so horny it’s not even funny.

He looks at me oddly. “What?” He asks suddenly. “Justin, you’re still looking at me like a—“ 

I get up deliberately, pushing the bench I’m sitting on back with a shove. I lock eyes with Brian as I walk around the table. 

He hesitates. “Like a…” he repeats slowly as I swoop down and give him a ferocious kiss, sitting on his lap. I taste the butter on his lips and the sweetness of the lobster on his tongue. “Fuck me!” He exclaims softly as our lips meet again in a deep kiss.

“Like a…?” I repeat slowly after drawing back slightly.

He looks at me intently. “Like a freak,” he says seriously. But I can immediately feel the growing bulge in his lap. I wriggle slightly.

Then I just smile. Like a freak, eh? “I’m not looking at you like a freak, Brian. I’m looking at you like someone in lo–“

“Justin, does this place have a bathtub?” He interrupts. Sigh. He’s got excellent timing, doesn’t he? But, in this context: a bathtub is a good idea. “Yeah. One.” I turn on what I hope is my most seductive smile. “Why?” ‘The Lark’ is still playing, I have a lingering taste of lobster and butter on my tongue… and I’m so turned on right now, I’m gonna bust.

“Justin: Run a bath. Get the Cool Whip.”

Hm. This is sounding promising! 

“And open another bottle of wine. The Shiraz. And get out the strawberries.”

“And while I’m doing all of this: What, pray tell, will YOU be doing?”

He smirks lightly. “Fine. I’ll get the strawberries.” He concedes.

“What about the blueberry pies?” I ask. 

“We’re eating light tonight…” He says in a low voice.

I smile at him and lean down for another kiss. God. He’s just… fuck, he’s delicious. And he looks back at me hungrily. 

I grin, get up and go to the bathroom. I turn on the spigot, plug the drain, then I pour in some of the expensive cucumber-herb bath oil Brian brought (yeah- some roughing it, huh?)- and I sit on the floor, leaning my upper body against the edge of the tub with my hand idly swirling the water as it fills. My dick is at full attention. I turn to see Brian come in with a tray. Strawberries, Cool Whip and a bottle of wine with 2 glasses are on it. And condoms and lube. I can’t help but beam up at him. 

He sets the tray down on the lidded toilet. “Okay, lazybones. You at least open the wine,” he demands, handing me the opener. He’s changed into his robe and the silk drapes over the outlines of his lean body in such a way that I’m struck again by the urge to sketch him—then fuck him. I think I’ll be doing some drawing this vacation. Watching him, I lick my lips in anticipation. And I’m soon rewarded as he quickly kicks off his slippers, shrugs off the robe and climbs into the tub. 

“Christ, Brian…” I say quietly, staring at him. But he doesn’t seem to hear me as he dunks his head in the water to wet his hair, then sits up, whipping it out of his eyes-- getting me wet in the process. “Brian!” I protest, laughing. He ignores me, grabs a strawberry and shovels it into the Cool Whip. Then he turns his attention to me. 

“What?” He asks. All innocence and light. My ass. 

Christ. I’m about as hard as I can be and I shift to relieve some of the pressure. I’m suddenly aware that I’m fully clothed and Brian’s fully… not. “Brian.” My voice sounds breathy. 

He gives me a slow, seductive smile. He bites the strawberry, Cool Whip sticking to his lips, and leans towards me provocatively- and I lift up to lean in for a bite. When the strawberry is gone, we’re kissing deeply. It’s intoxicating. When we pull apart, we lean our foreheads together and look at each other. He smiles and leans back, holding my gaze. After a moment, “Justin?”

I must give him a confused look. 

He guffaws lightly. “Justin: wine? Please?” Then I notice he’s been holding out his glass.

I shake my head and laugh. “God, Brian. I’m kind of focused on… anyway, sorry…” I grab the bottle and pour the wine. 

“I’ll chalk it up to your recently developed selective attention to detail.” He sips his wine, pauses, and regards me critically. “And don’t you think it’s about time you stripped and got in here? I swear it, you’ve become such a schmaltz-driven simp over the course of today- the last few days- now you’re starting acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. Where’s the sex-crazed Justin of 4 days ago? And who is this Harlequin romance character who has taken his place?” He smirks. I just stare at him. “Justin: get over yourself, get in here and let’s get it on!”

I snicker, eagerly pulling my shirt over my head and standing. “You’ve been pretty schmaltzy yourself, sweetums- albeit it’s schmaltz a la Brian Kinney,” I say, taking off my socks and jeans. I’m grinning as I jump into the tub, splashing Brian in the process.

“Careful, you twat!” He exclaims as I fall back against him.

“What? You’re already wet,” I say innocently.

“Yeah, well…” his voice trails off as our bodies rub against each other and conversation effectively ends. 

I groan as I slide my back against Brian’s front, grinding my ass into his cock. Ahhhhhhh…. God.

He moans into my neck and we jerk inadvertently, splashing water onto the floor. I turn and spread my legs as I rub his cock up and down my crack, feeling his hand eagerly working my cock as he ‘dry’ humps my ass. “Christ. Brian!”

“Where the fuck is…! Shit- the condoms are over there!” Brian mutters. I glance over and the condoms and lube are still on the tray on the toilet, well out of reach. 

“Just go with it!” I say. I just need to feel him. Cum. With me. Feel him. Shit. Just feel him.

“Jussstin….” He hisses. “I want to be inside you… now!”

I groan as I feel him lift me and put me next to him as he gets up and reaches a long arm towards the condoms. He can’t quite reach the lube.

“Leave it, Brian.”

He turns towards me, his throbbing cock at my eye level and hands me the condom. “Put it on.” He growls. I rip open the wrapper, tossing it aside and unfurl the condom on the length of Brian’s cock, stroking him a couple times before he slides back down into the tub pulling me on top of him, my back laying on his firm chest. I feel his finger sliding up my crack, dancing lightly over my hole.

“Christ, Brian, I’m about to cum and we haven’t—“ I gasp as I feel his finger enter me as his other hand slides up my torso and traces circles around my nipples. He tugs at the nipple ring and I let out a yelp in pleasure. “Brian,” I say breathlessly, “Brian, fuck me- fuck the shit out of me NOW!” I feel him position his dick at my hole and he pushes hard, entering me. I wince with that first familiar pleasurable pain and Brian stays still a moment as I get used to him inside me. Slowly he begins pumping and soon I’m pushing myself down on his cock in wanton ecstasy; somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that water is going everywhere but fuck if I care. I feel Brian’s hand on my dick, “No, Brian- I’m so close- I don’t need- Aaahh! Fuuuuuck…” I gasp and everything goes white as my dick and ass and body spasm in a mind blowing orgasm. I feel Brian thrust into me one last time, thumping my prostrate deliciously, then I feel his cock pulsating in my hole as he goes over the edge. I throw my head back and his mouth is at my ear and he’s moaning my name between nonsensical animal-like sounds. The last shudders of my orgasm ripple through me and my body goes limp, resting against Brian, head lolled on his shoulder, eyes closed, his dick still in my ass. I vaguely notice that there’s significantly less water in the tub than when we got in. 

“Fuck me…” Brian mutters. We lay there for a few moments, allowing our heart rates and breathing to slow to normal. “Justin,” Brian finally says, shifting me off of him and pulling out. He throws the condom into the wastebasket next to the tub. “Justin, it’s freezing- let’s get out and get dried off.”

I nod as Brian stands and steps out of the tub. I rinse off the cum that I shot all over my chest, pull the plug and get out as well. We towel off, and Brian puts on his robe. He hands me mine that he’d hung behind the door earlier in the day. “Thanks, Brian! How thoughtful of woo!” I tease.

He just rolls his eyes and grabs his glass of wine, polishing it off. I use my towel to sop up as much of the spilled water as I can and he heads out and into the bedroom. I take the tray back to the kitchen and Brian soon joins me having donned a pair of jeans and a turtleneck. By now the ‘Lark’ is over and it’s quiet. Brian goes to the dining room and starts bringing in the dinner dishes and I load the dishwasher, putting the shells in the garbage. Brian rounds the corner with the plates he stops cold.

I look up from putting a bowl in the washer and raise my eyebrows. “Brian?”

“Suddenly I feel like we’ve morphed into a hotter version of Ted and Emmett.” He shudders and gets a look like he wants to gag.

I snort. “Brian, there is no way on earth we could be remotely like Ted and Emmett. For one thing, neither of us is old and boring and bitter, neither of us are flamingly flamboyant, and finally, both of us know how to have passionate, incredible, brain-splitting sex.”

He shudders again and hands me the plate. 

Once we’re cleaned up, I lead Brian outside to the front porch. One thing that’s just incredible here is the night sky. We lay out on the recliners. “What’s that cluster?” Brian asks.

“Cassio Pia, I think.”

“No, that’s Calliope.” Brian says.

“Why’d you ask if you already know?” 

“Testing you.” I smirk at that. “Okay, so what are those three stars there?”

I turn my head and look at his profile in the dim light shining out of the living room onto the porch. I reach my hand over and cover his hand in mine. Our fingers lace. “Orion’s belt?”

“Ding ding ding! How ‘bout that there?” He asks, pointing.

"How about those over there?" He outlines the shape of the stars he means.

"I don't know, Brian... What is it?"

"Tropic of Capricorn. There?"

“Duh. The Big Dipper. Brian, how do you know all this stuff, anyway?”

“Actually, that's The Little Dipper. I used to go out at night a lot as a kid... You know, to get away from… to get out. There was a park near the house that had this thicket of trees. In the middle, there was a space. You couldn’t really see the space when looking at the thicket from the outside. I found my way in there and would lie on my back and watch the night sky. No one could find me there- I was the only one who knew about it. I never even showed it to Mikey. I just had it as my space. I even spent the night there a few times.” He pauses. I’m fascinated and wait for him to continue. This is a very rare moment- he rarely talks about his childhood; he rarely talks about himself, actually. He sighs. “Anyway, I started getting interested in the stars I was seeing and started to study them. That’s all. I guess I kind of associated the stars with being…” he pauses again.

But after a little while, it seems he’s not going to continue. “You associated the stars with being what, Brian?” I whisper.

He turns his head to face me. The star light reflects in his eyes. “…Safe.” He says quietly. And fuck me if tears don’t start to form in my eyes. Fucking goddamned Jack Kinney. Joan wasn’t much better. I give his hand a squeeze and he turns his eyes back to the skies.

Suddenly, there’s a scratching on the steps next to Brian and he jumps about a foot in the air. I can’t help but let out a short laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” He says with a low note of panic in his voice.

“Probably a raccoon, Bri- don’t worry.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going in.” Brian gets up quickly and I hear the screen door slam (it always slams).

I sigh and follow him, closing the front door behind me. Brian’s turned one of the chairs to face the fire and he has his feet out to warm them. I turn another one and join him. It’s close to one in the morning.


	11. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

After a little while of us staring silently into the fire I glance over at Brian. “So?”

He tosses me a look. “’So?’” He asks.

“So…? What do you think?” 

He looks confused. “Think?”

“Of, you know. Of Maine.”

He rolls his eyes and looks at me. “Justin, are you serious?”

I smile shyly. “Yes.” My voice is small. But this means a lot to me. That he loves this place. It means more than I’ll admit.

He just looks at me, a bemused expression on his face. “Justin, this is a beautiful spot,” he says quietly, reaching over and grasping my hand in his. I break into a big smile. After a moment of looking at me, Brian laughs. “Christ, Justin. Can you grin any wider? Your head looks like it’s going to split in half!”

And I feel like it might. I’m ecstatic. My grin widens at him, if that’s possible. “I’m just glad, Brian. I’m just gl—“

Suddenly his cell goes off and I groan. Michael. Must be. The timing is perfect. Fucking after one in the fucking morning!

“WHAT?” Brian yells into the phone, exasperated. “Michael, it’s fucking late!” He stops talking and I can hear Michael’s voice faintly as Brian listens to whatever crisis it is now that Michael’s freaking out about. “OK.” He sounds resigned. “Mikey, listen, instead of calling me every time Ben looks at you sideways, why don’t you just head up here tomorrow a few days before Ben and Hunter come, ‘k? There’s another cabin that you guys will be staying at.” He rolls his eyes at me. 

Shit. I really don’t feel like dealing with Michael and his whining as soon as tomorrow. But I suppose anything is better than having to go home. Or, ‘home,’ I guess.

“Michael, that’s it. I’m hanging up. Come if you want. Rent a car. Justin or I’ll email you directions to the place.” He says that looking at me sympathetically. Then he flips the phone closed.

“Christ, Brian. He’s got you on a short leash.”

He snorts. “He’s going through a shitty time, Justin. He and Ben are having some serious problems. Not all relationships are as blissful and carefree as ours,” he smirks. 

I just toss a wine cork at him and laugh. “You tired?”

“Kinda. But kinda jazzed at the same time. I dunno- maybe it’s the Maine air, but I’m not ready for bed yet.”

“Well, I’m gonna hit it. I’m tired.” I yawn. “You can watch TV if you want. Or Grandpa has all these books.” I say, pointing to the inlaid bookcases next to the fireplace. My eyes land on one book in particular. “Brian, you have GOT to read this!” I pull it from the shelf. “It’ll fucking scare the shit out of you!”

I hand it to him and he regards it critically. “’Dead Calm’?”

“It is the fucking best book! It’ll frighten the pants off you, though.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “My pants, eh?” He pauses and cracks the book. “Wasn’t this made into a movie awhile ago?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t do it justice. Read it.” I say, yawning again. I give him a sloppy kiss and head off for the bedroom. I’m fucking exhausted and collapse into bed. 

I must fall asleep immediately because the next thing I know the sun is on my face and Brian’s next to me sleeping. 

I watch him for awhile. I love watching Brian sleep. I reach over and grab my sketchpad from the nightstand, snatch a pencil and immediately start drawing him- tousled, sleeping, gorgeous.

Of course, this is when his eyes flutter open. He regards me for a moment and smirks. “Justin…”

I sigh. Yeah. I know, I know. His next line is bound to be: ‘You’re looking at me like a lunatic’. It’s his standard beef when he wakes up to me looking at him.

“Justin?”

“I’m looking at you like a lunatic, right? I’m freaking you out?”

He grins. “Kinda. But I was gonna say: nice drawing.”

Surprised at the unexpected compliment, I look down. It IS a nice drawing. Of course, it’s of him, so it would be.

“You would say that.” I say mockingly. Then I think, “Hey, Brian?”

He gets a sleepy look of suspicion on his face but says nothing.

“Let’s go to Folly Island today! Take a picnic.”

He groans and rolls over, away from me. “God, you’re gonna turn me into June Cleaver, aren’t you?”

I roll my eyes. “Christ, Brian. God forbid. You’d like the island- it’s pretty small, private. We could camp out there- watch the stars...”

“Justin, Michael’s coming today.”

Oh. Yeah. Fuck. 

“He called fucking again after you went to bed last night.”

“Jesus. What the hell is going on now, Brian?”

Brian yawns broadly. “Ben’s talking about leaving him,” he says simply. Whoa. 

“What? Why?”

“I guess he’s not feeling well and he wants to go to Tibet. He’s pissed at Michael about Hunter getting lost- and then hurt. No thanks to me…”

“Brian, will you stop it? You are not to blame for everyone else’s crap, okay? Christ. You take on so much shit that’s not your fault, Brian.”

He just rolls his eyes and pushes his long legs off the side of the bed, sitting up. “Yeah, well. Whatever,” he mutters.

“Do you know when he’s coming?”

“No. But I did email him the directions, since you’d passed out.”

“We could leave him a note. C’mon! You can be the captain of the ship!”

He rolls his eyes again. “I’d hardly call an oversized dinghy a ‘ship’.” He stands up and stretches. “Justin, I just need to wake up a minute okay? We’ll talk about it.” He reaches over and grabs the picture I dashed out before he woke up. “I take it you’re going to be doing a lot of drawing up here.”

I look at him, surprised again. He’s surprising me a bit more than usual this morning. “Probably. But what makes you say that?”

“I saw the way you were looking at me yesterday. I can always tell when you’re itching to draw.”

I grin. “Well, you’re right. So long as my fucking gimp hand holds out, that is,” I add, rubbing at it idly.

“It’s still bothering you, huh?” He looks at me with concern.

“A little. It’ll be fine.” I smile at him. “Let’s make toast and coffee.” I say, changing the subject.

He stretches again and winces slightly. His leg is hurting him, I can tell. All that sitting in the plane and car yesterday must have aggravated it. He can’t sit too long or it starts hurting him. God, I think. What a pair we make, wincing and groaning with our multiple residual wounds. Both inflicted by homophobic shits.

I get up and follow Brian into the kitchen and yank a loaf of bread from the breadbox. Brian rubs the nape of his neck, looks around the kitchen and spots the coffee maker. He opens the freezer and gets the coffee. “Shit, Justin! Why’d you get this almond mocha crap? Flavored coffee?”

I roll my eyes. “Brian, you like flavored coffee!”

He grunts but doesn’t say anything.

“So: about the picnic?” I ask hopefully.

“Let’s do it tomorr—“

There’s a sudden knock at the backdoor and we both jump about three feet in the air. Brian glances over to look out the kitchen windows and jumps again. “Christ! He must have caught the next possible flight!” He mutters. Michael is standing at the door looking in at us. He knocks again.

“You can fucking SEE us right here, Mikey! You don’t have to keep knocking!” Brian huffs, padding barefoot over to the door and pulling it open. Michael drops his bags, runs in and nearly bowls Brian over in a desperate hug. Brian stifles a yawn and wraps his arms around him. “Christ, Mikey. It’s like…” he glances at the clock on the wall. “Christ! It’s like 8 in the morning! What are you doing here so early?”

Michael’s eyes are squeezed shut and he just clutches at Brian like a drowning man. Inwardly I roll my eyes and go over to the toaster. “You want some toast, Michael?” I ask.

He either doesn’t hear me or he’s ignoring me. I shrug and pop a couple pieces into the toaster. I go over to the coffee maker and start to make some. 

“Michael?” Brian says finally. “Michael.” Nothing. “Michael!” He pries Michael off of him and holds Michael’s arms at his side, looking at him. Michael finally opens his eyes and looks at Brian. 

“Brian, it’s just awful. Ben’s going to leave me! Ben! He’s going to leave me!”

Brian takes a sleepy step back and glances at the coffee maker, which is brewing. Then he looks back at Michael. Michael has a pitiful look on his face. Brian sighs. “He’s not going to leave you, Mikey,” he says simply. 

I suddenly realize it’s like I’m not even in the fucking room. “He’s leaving! He’s going to Tibet! Brian, what do I do? And he’s been so weird about Hunter running off. What the fuck do I do?” Michael whimpers.

Brian sighs again. “Michael, he’s not leaving for Tibet. He’s not going anywhere. You guys are just going through a rough patch. Seriously, Michael, would you please chill? Think Mikey-" Brian steps forward and grabs his arms for emphasis and looks into his eyes, - "Just think: after all Ben's done for Hunter and after all he's been through to get that kid to trust you *both*, you think he'd leave the boy for fucking Tibet??? NO. That is *not* Ben. Even I know that and I hardly know the guy. This is just a phase. You think this is bad? Look at how many ups and downs Justin and I have been through...!”

Michael shakes his head, nearly in tears. “But he’s been talking about it, Brian." Brian and I exchange glances. It's clear Michael isn't listening. "He says it’s not me, that he’s always dreamed of Tibet… but he’s only started talking about it again after this thing with Hunter happened,” he sniffles. 

Inwardly I groan. This is not how I wanted the second day of our vacation to go. Michael is in full drama princess mode.

Brian just rolls his eyes and drops his arms at his sides in defeat. “Justin, wanna show Michael where he’ll be sleeping?”

Michael looks over at me for the first time and gets a slightly surprised look on his face. “Oh, hi, Justin. I didn’t…”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Michael. You’ll be staying at the Honeymo--- the Little House,” I check myself before calling it the Honeymoon Cabin. Given his current marital issues, I figure I shouldn’t call it that. “It’s right next to this place, just a little ways down the path. Here’s a key,” I say, handing him the key to the house. “C’mon,” I motion for him to follow me out the backdoor, down the path and along the stretch of driveway that leads under a thick blanket of pines to the smaller house at the very end of the drive. “You can pull your car up here if you want.” He just fidgets with his backpack and climbs the steps to the porch overlooking a fern garden and the water. 

“S’nice,” he says absently, fumbling with the keys.

“Thanks, Michael.” I turn to go, then turn back. “It’s very relaxing here. Hopefully it’ll help take the edge off whatever it is… whatever it is you’re going through,” I offer halfheartedly. I like Michael. I really do. I just wanted at least a little more alone time with Brian. I mean, at least today. Hopefully, when Ben and Hunter arrive, they’ll patch things up and do some stuff without Brian and I. “Why don’t you get settled, and maybe we could all take the boat out for a picnic.”

He pushes the door open and mumbles something I can’t make out. I sigh, go down the steps and head back to our cabin. To Brian.


	12. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

Jesus H. Christ. I mean, Jesus H. CHRIST! Michael is going to be a mopey little shit this entire trip, isn’t he? Plus, we have him here now, Ben and Hunter AND him in a couple days, THEN Lindsay, Mel and Gus… And possibly Ted and Emmett, according to Michael last night (in a rare moment when he was slightly lucid). And we’re here to get away? To relax before going to New York?

Gawd. I pour myself a cup of coffee, butter my toast (sparingly) and go to sit in the dining room. I look out at the water, which has a slim wisp of fog over it. The sun’ll burn it off soon. So far, the weather hasn’t been bad, I think idly to myself. Then I hear the back door slam. What is with all the screen doors on this house? They all slam like someone’s pissed as hell.

“Hey,” Justin says as he rounds the corner to the dining room, plate and cup in hand. He doesn’t sound happy.

Maybe someone IS pissed as hell. “Mikey getting settled?”

“I guess, yeah.” He sits down, takes a sip of coffee and winces. He immediately pours in about 3 tablespoons of sugar. “I made it too strong,” he says, crinkling his nose. 

“It’s good.” I say simply, taking a sip. I like strong coffee. And I’m used to the diner’s swill, so this is a treat.

“Michael’s pretty upset.” Justin says after a moment.

“That’s an understatement.” I say through my bite of toast. 

“Why the hell would Ben leave Michael?”

I sigh. “He’s not going to leave Michael.” I pause a moment. “I guess maybe the picnic would be a good idea today, though. Get Mikey’s mind off things.”

He grins. Good.

“Cool! I’ll pack it up!”

“I bet you even have a picnic basket…”

Still grinning, he takes a quick bite of his toast. “Yeah- we do! No liquor box picnic this time.”

I roll my eyes. “Liquor boxes make fine picnic baskets. Even if they ARE floor picnics,” I say, recalling our impromptu floor picnic not that long ago. 

“Well, we have a real picnic basket here, so a liquor box won’t be necessary.” Justin takes his plate to the sink and I hear him rinsing it off. At that moment, I also hear the screen door slam. Michael.

“Hey, Mikey.” I say as he walks into the dining area. “Want some breakfast?”

“I stopped at a McDonald’s on the way in,” he says somberly, looking around the house. “This is a nice cabin. Great view.” His voice is dull and lifeless.

“Yeah- the sunsets are beautiful.” Justin says, entering the living room. “We saw a great one last night,” he adds, looking at me with a smile.

Michael just ignores him. He’s totally preoccupied.

“We were just talking about going on a picnic.” I say a bit loudly, to get his attention.

Michael huffs a little. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Michael Charles Novotny,” I say shrilly, doing my best Deb impersonation, “You will NOT sit around this cabin all day moping. You ARE going on this fucking Godforsaken picnic whether you like it or not. And you WILL have fun and you WILL not pout and you WILL not sulk.”

Justin guffaws. “That was a pretty good Debbie, Brian.” 

I look at Michael and there’s a faint smile on his face. Well, that’s a start, I think to myself. “C’mon. Let’s pack it up. I’ll get the booze.” 

Justin rolls his eyes. I ignore him, get up and go into the kitchen. “So where’s this lovely picnic basket, Justin?”

“Under the sink.” 

I open the cabinet under the sink and jump back. “Fuck me!”

“What? What is it?” Justin comes up behind me and I accidentally back into him in my horror. He moves out from behind me and cranes his neck to see into the cabinet. “Aw! How cute! A little mouse!” 

“Cute? Fucking CUTE? It’s fucking unsanitary is what it is!” I HATE mice with a passion. So far, the wildlife in Maine has scared the fucking bejesus out of me. Not that I’ll admit that out loud. “Do we have any traps? We have to kill it!” I say quickly, still backing up.

“Traps? Brian, we don’t have to KILL the mouse. We just need to get it out of the house!”

“Well, then, you’re in charge of figuring out how to do that.” I say, backing up even further until my back hits the counter. Did I mention that I hate mice?

“Hand me that box.” He says, gesturing to a box on the counter.

I quickly hand him the box and head into the living room. I don’t want to watch- ‘cause if he doesn’t catch it and it runs away… well, if it does that, it might run away towards ME. And. And I hate mice.

“What’s going on?” Mikey asks.

“A mouse.”

“Omigod!” He exclaims, suddenly animated. “You must be freaking out!”

“I am not freaking out!” 

“You HATE mice! Remember when Ma found a—a—“ Michael has started laughing so hard he can’t finish… “Remember when— when Ma fou--” 

I train a glare on him and point my finger in his face. “Michael, you shut up about that! I mean it, Mikey. If you breathe a word about that to Justin- to ANYone- I’ll kill you!” 

I hear the back door slam and Justin walks into the room, brushing his hands off. “Done!” Then he glances over to the previously glum and currently hysterical Michael. “What’s with him?” Mikey’s got tears in his eyes by now.

“Nothing.” I say tersely, still glaring at Michael.

“Whe-- when..." Michael can’t even speak he’s so out of control. He finally takes a few deep breaths, still laughing, and wipes his eyes. “Wh—“

“Michael!” I jab my finger in his direction again. “Don’t you FUCKING dare! I mean it, Mikey!“

He ignores me. Of course. “Whe—“ he coughs out. He takes another deep breath and manages to speak: “When we were 14, Ma found a dead mouse in the kitchen; Brian fucking shrieked like a woman and jumped on a chair! I mean, he literally shrieked! He looked just like a cartoon housewife! All he needed was an apron and a rolling pin to complete the picture! Ma and I laughed our asses off!” He busts out laughing again and I see Justin out of the corner of my eye, looking at me with a stunned expression. His mouth quickly curls into a smile, and then he’s all out laughing like Michael. I sigh. At least Mikey’s laughing and not moping. And at least they’re both laughing and not jibing at each other with veiled insults. Of course, this is at my expense. So you know they will have to pay. I’ll pick the time and place later. But it’ll happen.

I throw my hands up and go back into the kitchen, leaving the two of them leaning on each other in hysterics. I get the picnic basket and peer inside. Nothing’s been chewed and there aren’t any hairs or other signs of a mouse having been in it. I turn it upside down over the sink to be sure. Nothing. Okay. I start packing food and booze into the basket, ignoring the two in the other room. Still laughing. It’s not THAT funny. A dead mouse to a 14 year old is scary, for Chrissakes. Assholes. I’m Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake. 

Still, as I hear them continue laughing in the next room, a small smile crosses my lips. Despite myself. The people I lo—gawd. The people I care for are happy. But, again, at my expense. So, again, you know they will have to pay. But, what the hell. Do I really care that they’re laughing about me being scared by a mouse at 14? Not really. Honestly: not really.


	13. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

I finally get myself under control after laughing my fucking ass off with Michael. I glance at him and we exchange knowing looks- same as me, he knows we might have gone overboard, and Brian is probably in the other room brooding. I wander in there to ascertain just how angry Brian is. I see him loading shit into the picnic basket and I smile. About 4 months ago, I would have laughed in your face if you said something about Brian ever packing a picnic. I’m so amazed how different- yet the same- Brian is now. He’s still a drop dead gorgeous asshole with very quirky traits, a very caustic sense of humor and the smarts of a genius, albeit an evil one-- But at the same time, he’s changed. 

I look at him closely and I’m surprised to see a small smile on his face. He hasn’t noticed me coming into the room, he’s so absorbed in what he’s doing. And it would appear he's packing everything in the fucking refridgerator into that basket.

“Bri?”

He looks up, startled.

“Brian, what are you smiling at?” I ask. Although, you know what? I know. I already know. Maybe it’s the weird telepathy we have, but I just know that he’s secretly happy that Michael’s not moping anymore. And that Michael and I aren’t fighting in that veiled way we have. Like everything, Brian is willing to sacrifice himself for his friends. And his lover. I’m grinning at him.

“I- I’m not smiling…“ he stammers. I’ve rarely seen him stammer and I’m fascinated. “I’m not smiling,” he finally says more sternly. “Are you girls finally finished tittering?” He adds.

I smile warmly at him and walk over, putting my arms around him and kissing his earlobe. “Yes.” I say simply. “And I’m sorry, Brian. It’s just… it’s just…” Now I’M stammering. “It’s just I never think of you as a person who would do something so… so … well, so ‘cute’. Michael’s story just showed me that you had at least a few normal boyhood moments. I don’t hear much happy stuff about your childhood. It’s just good to know that you had a few good times.”

He just stares at me, aghast. “Justin,” he says finally, “First of all, I don't 'do' cute. And second of all, that wasn’t a ‘good time’.”

I roll my eyes. If he only knew how much he DOES 'do' cute. “Brian, Michael just told me that you had busted out laughing after realizing what you did.”

He turns his attention to the basket and tosses in a corkscrew. “Yeah, well,” he says. “…I still hate mice.”

I laugh and squeeze him, putting my chin on his shoulder, looking at his profile. I sigh and unwrap my arms, my eyes never leaving his face. He turns towards me and meets my gaze.

“Ready for a picnic, Sunshine?” He asks with sarcasm in his voice.

I'm not fazed. I smile again, holding his stare. I just nod.

“Okay, boys. Either get a room or let’s get set to go!” We both jump at Michael’s words. 

”Christ, Mikey. Don’t sneak up on us like that again or I'll --!”

“Or you'll what? You’ll scream and jump on a chair?”

Brian gives Michael a menacing look and then goes into the bedroom. 

“Bring a second pair of pants, dry socks, sunscreen and a sweater!” I call after him; I just hear Brian groan in response. I glance over at Michael who is grinning. “Have you packed your stuff, Michael?”

“I’m just bringing my whole fucking backpack. I didn’t bring a whole lot up here.”

“Well, I hope you brought bug spray.” His face looks stricken. “Never mind, I have plenty,” I say with a smile. I pack up the tarp, the grill and utensils. I glance into the picnic basket and huff. Brian’s packed up way more than we’ll need. Oh well. I’m impressed that he even tried.

“Brian! C’mon!” I say, hoisting my backpack on my back and picking up the basket. Christ! Did he put bricks in this thing?

Brian walks into the room in a pair of worn cut offs and a tight white wifebeater, with a loose white button down shirt over. I lick my lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen those shorts; I drop the pack and carelessly put the basket back onto the counter, nearly dropping it on the floor. I walk up to him and there’s a low growl in my throat. “Where’d you get those?” I don’t give him a chance to answer as I land on his lips with a crushing kiss that apparently surprises him. 

“What the fuck?” He breathes when we come up for air. “Where did I get 'those' what?” He adds. I hear a sudden stomp behind me and realize we have an audience.

I look into his eyes and then lower my gaze to his shorts, taking a moment to look at his tanned legs going on forever to the floor. He rolls his eyes. “That was a reaction to my fucking crap assed shorts?” He guffaws, still panting slightly from the kiss. I cock an eyebrow in response.

“Just how big is this island, anyway?” Michael chimes in, apparently thinking his stomp didn't alert us to his presence. I look around and grin at him. I notice he’s also taking in Brian’s appearance. It’s not one that Brian often sports, obviously. It’s hot.

“Big enough,” I say, looking back at Brian; I wink and give him a short kiss. “You can walk around it in maybe 45 minutes- but it only takes that long because you’re climbing over rocks. It’s pretty small. Not big enough for a house or anything.” I pause. “Okay. I guess we should go.” I pick up the basket and my backpack. “Have you ever been on a boat, Michael?”

Michael is still staring at Brian. Christ. Brian’s oblivious, pulling his pack on and tossing some sunscreen in. He’s also still eyeing me after that kiss. Heh. I sure hope Michael leaves us alone awhile on the island. 

“Michael?” I say, a bit more loudly. “Have you ever been on a boat before?”

“Yeah,” he says, snapping out of it. “I have. I went on the Staten Island ferry when I was a kid.”

“This’ll be different. Maybe we should tool around a little to see if you get seasick. It can get choppy, and it’s a fair way to the island.”

Brian nods in agreement and we all bundle out the front door and out towards the dock. I open the boat box and grab three life jackets. 

“What the fuck?” Brian says as he sees me coming down the ramp to the dock with the life jackets. “I know how to swim- you can leave mine in the box.” 

Michael grabs one. Good. At least HE’S not going to bitch about wearing one.

“Brian, the water is really cold. Even if you can swim like an athlete, if you’re in the water for too long you won’t be able to move.”

He snorts. “I’ll keep it by me, how’s that.”

I nod reluctantly. “Fine. Christ.” I note Brian’s already got the boat by the dock and it's primed, loaded and ready. I start to feel a little better. Brian’s shown me a different side of himself this trip- the Armani label queen has turned into this capable woodsy type guy- well, minus the little run-ins with the local wildlife. But still, it’s a little disconcerting. And hotter'n hell. I glance down at him. He’s in the whaler at the back starting the motor, which roars into life. 

“Mikey?” He says, holding out his hand. Michael puts on the life vest and tosses his pack into the boat. “Michael, c’mon. Take my hand.” Michael reaches out and grasps his best friend’s hand as he puts his right foot into the boat. “Michael, put your—Christ, Mikey, put your other foot in NOW.” Brian kills the motor and turns his full attention to Michael who has put one foot in- and the boat is quickly listing away from the dock, making Michael’s legs split. Brian yanks him roughly into the boat and then huffs out a breath of relief when Michael sits with a plop on the middle seat, having almost ended up in the water. “Justin? Little help?” Brian says, reaching out a long arm for me to grab his hand and pull the boat back towards the dock. I reach out and grasp him, bringing the boat once again parallel.

“Mikey, you okay?” Brian says as Michael orients himself. 

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You just need to get your sea legs.”

“My what?”

Brian rolls his eyes. “You just need to get used to being on water.”

I unhitch the boat from the dock and look at Brian, who nods, starting the engine again. I hop in and push off. Brian engages the first gear and we’re off. I point him in the direction we need to go, grinning and seeing my reflection in his sunglasses, which are already sprayed with water.

“SOOO! WHAT’S THE NAME OF THIS ISLAND?” Michael yells over the roar of the engine. 

I turn around to look at him, the wind whipping through his hair. “FOLLY!” I yell.

“MOLLY?” He yells. “WHAT, DID YOUR FAMILY BUY IT AND NAME IT AFTER YOUR SIS—“

“FOLLY!!” I say as loudly as I can.

“WHAT?”

“FOLLY!!!!!!!!!!” Brian and I both yell at once.

“OH.”

Suddenly, we hit a calm patch of water and Brian shifts to a lower gear. We can hear ourselves think. “Mikey?” Brian asks. “How you feeling? Seasick?”

“No, I feel okay, I think. Thanks.”

“You look like a little kid with that life vest on, Mikey.” Brian grins. And he does, actually. But I guess that means I do, too.

I grip Brian’s bare knee and lean into him briefly, giving him a kiss. “Shouldn’t you be wearing sunglasses, Sunshine? It’s pretty bright out here.”

“I never wear them. I probably should, but I hate not being able to see detail.”

He smirks. “Whatever.”

We ride along in relative silence, me pointing out various sights of interest and directing Brian which way to steer us. When we get to the island, Brian cuts the motor and we drift towards a clearing on the shore. I jump out into the water and gasp. “Christ, it’s cold!” 

“You know, there’s a whole episode of Seinfeld that deals with shrinkage.” Michael comments. Brian huffs a short laugh and tosses me the rope. I roll my eyes, drag the boat up to the beach and pull it up on the rocks.

Michael stands up and promptly falls flat on his ass as Brian gets out of the boat, making it wobble. 

“Christ!” Michael exclaims. Brian wades toward him from the back end of the boat, his pack on his back. He extends his hand and helps Michael get off the boat into the water. 

I grab the picnic stuff and go up the beach a little to the high tide mark. Brian grabs the bag with the tarp and comes up to join me. “So. This is it, huh?” He says, looking around. “Kinda boring, isn’t it?” I swat him. “What?” He protests. “It is! Seagulls, blueberry bushes, rocks, mussels, barnacles, bugs, water… boring.”

“Shut up, Brian! It’s beautiful.”

Michael wanders up to us fidgeting with his life jacket. “How the fuck do you get this thing off?” He whines.

Brian rolls his eyes and goes over to undo his vest. “Christ, Mikey! How old are you anyway?” Brian discards the life jacket, tossing it into the boat.

“Shut up, Brian!” 

After laying out the tarp and chips and shit, I start gathering stuff to make a fire. Brian simply sits on the tarp and grabs a chip. “What’s on the menu?” He asks me.

“You should know. You packed the damned picnic. In fact, you packed enough for a day. Two days, even.” I peek into the basket again. “Leftover lobster, hamburgers, hotdogs, sandwich makings… you packed the whole fridge practically.”

“Hey! Cut me some slack! That’s the first picnic I’ve ever packed!”

I grin at him and put the twigs and shit in the circle of rocks I’ve laid out. Michael has wandered off down the beach aimlessly, picking up shells and shit. I go over to where Brian’s sitting and lay down next to him. “Could you do me?” I ask, pulling the sunscreen out of my backpack. I see him cock an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye.

“Sure. Anytime.” He says in a sultry voice.

“The sunscreen I mean,” I snort, handing it to him. “You can do ME later.”

He sighs and squeezes a dollop of sunscreen into his palm, and starts massaging it into my back. I relax into his touch and close my eyes.

“Hey! Hey!” Michael says running up, startling us both.

“Christ, Michael! Stop sneaking up on us!”

“Look! Look what I found!”

Brian groans. “A bottle with a note in it? How Gilligan’s Island.”

“What’s the note say, Michael?” I ask.

“I dunno. I can’t get it out.”

“Here, let me try.” I say, reaching for the bottle. I shake it till I can get my finger on the parchment in the neck and pull. It comes out and I unfurl it. “Wow.” I say.

“What’s it say?” Michael asks, grabbing the paper from my hand. “Wow! It’s dated 1969! It’s from a Charles Engersoll.”

“That’s my fucking grandfather!” I say, snatching the paper back. “’To whomever finds this note, it was put in the water at the Narrows in Maine in July 1969. Charles Engersoll.’ Then he gives the longitude and latitude, and his address!”

“Whoa.” Brian says simply. “That's weird.”

“Yeah. I’ll say!” Michael says, grinning. “I found a message from the past! How cool!”

Brian rolls his eyes and then casts his eyes up to the skies. “You know, boys, we better keep an eye on the weather. The wind is starting to kick up and it’s a long way back to the cabin.”

“We’re fine!” Michael says, giddy from his find. “What’s for lunch?”


	14. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

After we eat, Justin starts putting the picnic stuff away. Mikey and I go for a walk.

“Can you believe I found this note?”

“It’s cool, Mikey. Good for you.” Groan. This note in a bottle thing is all he’s talked about since he found it and it’s getting old. 

“Hey, Brian?” His tone has changed and I glance over at him before bending down and picking up a good skipping rock. I wing it into the water and watch how many times it skips. Six. Pretty good, I think idly to myself.

“Brian?” He says again.

“Yeah?”

“What do I do?” He asks quietly.

I sigh. “Mikey, you and Ben are just going through growing pains. Why don’t you tell him it was my fault Hunter ran away? It really was. If I hadn’t blown it talking on the phone with him, he never would have bolted. Then Ben wouldn’t be mad at you. He’d be mad at me.”

Michael looks at me blankly. Then a look of understanding- or something- washes over his features. “Brian, why do you do that? Take on all the responsibility for everybody’s shit?”

I shrug. “If it’ll help you and Ben, then you’ll shut up about it and quit moping around and bugging me every five minutes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Brian. I told Ben what happened. It doesn’t seem to matter to him.”

“Mikey, I think what’s really going on is that he’s scared. He hasn’t been feeling well, and you said his viral load is elevated. I think he’s just terrified and taking it out on you because you’re closest to him. Just stick it out.”

Michael looks at me strangely. “Since when did you become such an expert in relationships? That was actually a pretty insightful comment, Brian.”

I guffaw. “I’m hardly an expert, Mikey. Look at me and Justin and our fucked up… relationship.” Christ, I hate that word. “I mean, we’re all over the place. Anyway, I dunno; it just occurs to me that Ben might simply be running a little scared at the moment. Think about it: it hardly seems like him to hold a grudge against you for what happened to Hunter. Hunter’s just fine, and besides, it happened well over a month ago. Ben’s not the type to stay mad about something. Especially something that’s no longer an issue.”

Mikey’s quiet a moment and I skip another stone on the water. I notice the sea is unusually calm and I look up to see dark clouds creeping closer from behind us. We better start heading back, I think to myself. “Actually, Brian, you and Justin are doing pretty well. You underestimate how far you’ve come. It’s weird to see you like this, to be honest. You’re practically domesticated.” I snort at that. “And how do you know Ben so well?” He adds, smiling. “Should I be worried?”

I smirk. “Hardly. I have enough to handle as it is, what with Sunshine back there,” I say, gesturing behind us where Justin is laying on the beach. I momentarily worry if he has enough sunscreen on. He’s so fucking pale- he’ll burn within minutes in this sun. I start to feel too warm and peel off my over shirt, tying it around my waist. Michael stares at me oddly for a moment. “Something wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head, looks down and pretends to be interested in a rock or something and bends down to pick it up.

“There a note in that rock or something?” I ask after a few minutes of him staring at his hands. 

He laughs slightly then looks up at me sadly. “I just hope this isn’t the end. Of Ben and me, I mean.”

I take the rock from his hands and pull him into a hug. “It isn’t, Mikey. Just try to be there for him. He’ll come around.”

He hugs me tightly and I feel him take a deep, shuddering breath. “Brian, I’m going to miss you so fucking much…” he mutters. “So fucking much,” he repeats. I just hold him tighter and blink back an inadvertent tear. Christ.

I regain my composure and pull out of the death grip he has on me. I lean down and give him a peck on the cheek. “Now, c’mon.” I say. “We better head back to the cabin. I don’t like the look of those clouds.”

He looks up. “’K.” He says, sniffling slightly. I turn, taking his hand to lead him back towards the beach where Justin is. 

When we get close, I notice the boat is dangerously far out in the water, the tide having risen over the hours we’ve been here. “Christ!” I mutter, releasing Michael’s hand and starting to run. “Justin!”

He startles and looks at me. 

“The boat! Get the boat!” I call to him, scrambling over the rocks.

He looks over at the boat and jumps up. “Shit!” He runs to the water and wades in, his arms swinging as he works his legs against the water. He’s up to his shoulders when he gets to the boat and he reaches out, grabbing the rope at the bow. He struggles to walk it back towards the beach, but it’s obviously difficult for his feet to get purchase in that deep water and I suddenly worry that he’s going to get dragged out with the whaler. I finally reach the beach and splash in after him, holding out my hand. I’m tall enough to get out there and get the boat back in, pulling Justin along with me. We get to the beach, panting and dripping wet. 

There’s a sudden low rumble of thunder and I feel a drop of water on my head. Shit. “This weather…” I gasp, still out of breath. “We gotta get back to the cabin.” 

Justin looks up at the sky as Mikey walks up. “I think it might be a little late for that,” he says, squinting up at the sky. The light is eerie- the impending storm clouds haven’t yet covered the sun so there’s an otherworldly pall cast over the island and the surrounding ocean. I look over to Mount Desert Island longingly, wishing we were there instead of on this tiny rock. The wind has kicked up again with a vengeance. Shit.

I pull the boat up onto the beach enough so that when the tide is high it still won’t float away. Unless, of course, this storm carries it off. The waves are getting choppy and I look out to see whiteheads all around us. Shit again. It starts raining a little harder. I look at Michael and he looks utterly frightened. 

“Brian, we won’t make it back to the dock in that boat in this weather!” Justin says.

“I know. We won’t even make it across the channel to the main island if we make a bee line.” I yank the boat up even further onto the small island, for good measure. I tie the leader to a large rock. Action. We need to do something. “Justin, make sure the tarp doesn’t blow away and put our packs under it. I saw some drift wood on Mikey’s and my walk—“

“Brian, with as much food as you packed into the picnic basket, that tarp isn’t going anywhere…”

I roll my eyes. “Christ, Justin- this isn’t the time for wisecracks! This could be a ‘Nor’easter’!” This is the name that the locals’ use for ‘one helluva fucking bad storm’. How I thought to use it, I have no clue.

He gets a look in his eye- a mix between fear, love and respect. “You know about ‘Nor’easters’?” He says.

I’m guessing the import of our dilemma hasn’t fully hit him yet for some reason. “Justin. Listen, we have to stick this storm out HERE. Just keep the tarp from blowing away, keep our packs dry and I’ll be right back.”

He nods like the smart lad he is and runs over to the tarp, tossing our shit under it, then sitting on it in the middle and calling for Michael to join him. I scramble over a few rocks to where I saw a few somewhat straight, wrist-thick sticks of beached driftwood. I just pray they haven’t been taken out to sea already. As I round the last of the boulders I breathe a sigh of relief to see three or so five foot long sticks left. I grab them and go back to the boys sitting on the tarp. They look miserable sitting in the rain. It hasn’t gotten to the point of being a downpour yet, but it’s now dark, the sun obliterated completely by the clouds. Thunder rumbles in an almost constant murmur in the background; the flashes of lightening are frequent and occasionally I see bolts hitting the water in the distance. Have I said: SHIT?

Justin sees me immediately as I round the corner and he jumps up, anticipating what I’m thinking of. He anchors the back and two sides of the tarp with heavy rocks, leaving enough loose in the front for me to prop up the flap with the driftwood. “Michael! Get up off the tarp!” Justin yells over the dull roar of thunder, crashing waves and rain. Once again, in one of my rare but quite lucid moments, I’m glad that Justin and I have this weird whatever-the-fuck-it-is telepathy thing going on. 

Michael gets up and I quickly prop the sticks underneath the unanchored front of the tarp, creating a makeshift lean-to for us to huddle under; I silently thank God the tarp is as big as it is. I toss a quick glance back at the boat to make sure it’s not… well, not gone. It’s still safely up, mostly on the beach, but I realize we’re going to have to keep an eye on it. The waves are crashing pretty heavily now; we’re also going to have some serious bailing to do. If we live, that is. Ha ha. As soon as the three of us, our still-dry packs and the basket are safely in the cramped confines of the tarp-tent we’ve created, the heavens open completely. The sound of the downpour on the tarp is almost as deafening as the thunder and waves. Luckily the wind is from behind us and the rain is blowing away from us, keeping us relatively protected in the lean-to.

“Christ!” Justin shouts above the din. “This is NOT good!”

Michael is huddled next to me, shaking. Jesus. I put an arm around him. This is definitely the most dangerous thing Mikey has been through and I feel sorry for him. 

“We’ll be alright.” I say loudly. “We just have to wait it out and keep an eye on the boat. We should probably change into dry clothes. Glad you had us bring a change, Sunshine!” The temperature has dropped dramatically and we’re all shivering and dripping wet. “We only have room in here for one person at a time to maneuver and change. Justin, you’re probably the coldest from being up to your neck in the water getting the boat. Wanna go first?”

Justin eyes Michael warily. Mikey manages a weak smirk. I’m impressed. “Don’t worry. I won’t look, Boy Wonder. Trust me.” He says, just loud enough to be heard above the noises around us. Justin still looks doubtful, but he grabs his pack and scoots behind us. I can’t hear him because of the noise, but I feel him moving behind me as he changes. Michael continues to huddle next to me, staring out at the tossing ocean, the rain and lightening. Suddenly I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. Justin gives a quick squeeze before reappearing at his spot next to me. I look over at him and smile, squinting a little at a spray of rainwater that hits my face when the wind momentarily changes direction. ‘I love you,’ he mouths. 

‘Fucking mindreader.’ I mouth back. My now-standard response. He beams at me. “Michael, why don’t you change next?” I yell.

Mikey startles, having seemingly become entranced by the rain. He looks over to see a dry Justin and a hang-dog wet me. “Uh. OK.” He doesn’t seem worried about Justin seeing him change. Probably knows Justin is not at all interested. Which would be accurate. Same here. He picks up his pack and crawls behind us. With him ‘gone’, I pull Justin to me and kiss him deeply. I know we’ll make it home after this storm… but just in case we’re blown off this island, I want to taste him one last time. And let him know how I feel. Again.

Next thing I know, Michael is next to me again, nudging me annoyingly. I ignore him and continue kissing Sunshine.

“Brian!” He yells- practically right in my ear. “It’s your turn!” I pull back from Justin reluctantly, looking into his lust- and (gawd) love-filled eyes. Although, I’m pretty sure my eyes look the same way. I shudder a little and realize that despite the heat of the kiss, I’m fucking freezing. Justin seems to realize it too, and reaches over to hand me my pack. 

Me, I don’t care who watches me change, so I don’t bother going into the ‘back’. I just change right here. Self-consciousness is for losers. A body’s a body. 

As I get into dry clothes, my blood runs warmer. I really am glad I took Justin’s advice and packed a sweater and an extra pair of jeans. I sigh and sit back down on our tiny little square of dry land, and both Justin and Michael lean in against me and I wrap my arms around both of them. It feels good. This feels good. Weird, of course-- my best friend and my partner, leaning against me from either side, and all of us are looking out onto the storm that may be our demise—but you know? If this is my time to go, I’m okay with that. 

There’s a sudden crack of thunder and we all jump. “Christ!” Justin yells. I squeeze him and I cast a wary eye towards the boat. It’s rocking hard but not drifting. Thank God.

“You know?” I say over the din around us. Both Michael and Justin look at me. “This is fucking cool.”

Both look at me like I’m nuts. And, while I’ve always loved storms- this isn’t a cool storm; that isn’t what I mean. 

“You’re insane!” Justin says.

“No, I mean… well, I mean, if I were to die today, I’d be okay with that.”

I feel both of the men beside me shudder. “No! I’m not saying we’re going to die! I’m just saying, I’m basically… well, I’m basically… happy.”

Justin looks at me intently, a little surprised. And I look at him. Because. Well, because… the reason I’m as happy as I am. Is Justin. And same with Mikey. In a much different way, but Mikey’s important to me. But after looking at Michael, I find myself looking back at Justin. He looks a little nervous and I give his shoulder a squeeze. “Any more wine in that basket?” I say loudly. Justin ignores me and kisses me hard. Fuck. Me. Who needs wine?


	15. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

“Who is this pod person and what did he do with the Brian I know and love?” I breathe out as our lips part. Seriously, Brian sitting here between his best friend and lover, ADMITTING he is basically happy-- is just so out of character I begin to think maybe this storm isn’t so bad as I thought. Maybe it’s a magical storm.

Brian huffs a little and reaches into the basket for the wine. He up-ends the bottle, taking a huge swig. 

“Ah. THERE he is.” I smirk. The rain isn’t letting up and I’m starting to worry that we’ll be here for the duration. 

“What time is it?” Michael asks over the din of rain, thunder and crashing waves. “What if it gets dark? What if we have to spend the night?” His voice is panicky.

“Relax, Mikey.” Brian says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we’re on Gilligan’s Island. We just have to wait.”

I must admit, it is a little scary to think this storm won’t let up soon. I lean on Brian, taking strength from his apparent lack of concern. I glance at my watch. “It’s already 4:00.” I say.

“Justin, you said yourself: I packed more than enough food. We’ll be fine.” He takes another swig of wine and looks out on our predicament. “I better pull the boat up more…” He says, standing and then running out into the storm. I watch him, scared that he’s out there. Then I huff a little thinking that, minus this tarp, I’m as out there as he is. He yanks the boat up further on the beach. 

“Christ!” He says, shaking out his hair when he gets back under the shelter. “It’s fucking cold!”

“Brian! Don’t shake in here!” Michael protests.

“Shut up! You go out into the wilds and pull the boat up then!” He yells over the storm. He sits down in his spot and shakes again for good measure. Michael just rolls his eyes.

“I’m bored.” Michael announces.

“You’re BORED?” Brian and I say together. A few seconds ago he was terrified and now he’s BORED?

He nods. 

“Mikey, why don’t you go for a little walk? That should liven your afternoon.”

“Briiiiannn!”

There is something about Brian’s name that brings out the whine in us all. I just now see how annoying it is. I silently make a promise to myself not to whine anymore.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Michael says suddenly.

Brian snorts. “What sort of dare could we do in this weather without risking serious bodily harm? And what are we, 12?”

“Then let’s play truth!” Michael says, clapping his hands like a schoolgirl.

“What, are you channeling Emmett now?” Brian guffaws, truly aghast at the words his best friend is spouting. I laugh at that. 

“Briiiaannnn… c’mon!” Michael drawls. Yep. Never whining again.

Still, I start to consider what Michael is suggesting. Maybe it would be interesting to play a little game of truth. Although, I must admit: every day with Brian is a game of truth. I cock an eyebrow Brian’s way. “What do you think, Brian?” I shout over the noise.

He looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “What??? Are you nuts??? That’s so fucking juvenile I’m not even going to justify it with an answer! 20 questions, I spy—anything is better than truth or dare! It’s so… fuck, it’s so 90210 or something!”

I grin at him. “Well, you’re in that tax bracket…”

“Not anymore. And fuck it. I think I’ll go for a walk myself…” he mutters, turning his gaze out to the storm. “Anything would be better than suffering through an afternoon with 12-year-olds.”

“Aw, Brian, c’mon. It’s not that big a deal. I promise, we won’t ask anything TOO touchy feely.”

He just grimaces at me. “Fuck me. I take it back: I’m not basically happy. I’m fucking miserable.”

I relent. “Fine. I guess we’ll just sit here all afternoon staring out at a storm that has shown no signs of letting up.”

“I’m not saying we don’t do ANYthing to pass the time. Just not fucking truth or dare.”

“Fine. Justin and I will play then. Justin, tell me something true about Brian.”

Hm. “Along what lines?”

“Something… juicy.”

Brian shoots me a glare. “Brian… well, Brian…” What do I want to reveal to his best friend who actually still has a little thing for him? “Brian…” my voice trails off. 

Brian cocks his eyebrow at me. “Yes?” He says expectantly. Michael is looking at me intently. 

“What?” Michael says. 

“Brian cried at a movie once.” I chicken out- there are a lot of juicier things I could say, but I think better of it. Although, Brian doesn’t look too pleased at my revelation.

“He cried at a movie?” Michael practically shrieks. “What movie?”

“Justin, you are so dead.” Brian hisses.

“’Cabaret’.” I answer. “It wasn’t very obvious, but he was definitely tearing up.”

“Yeah, well, the gay guy slept with Liza Minnelli. Any self-respecting gay man would be moved to tears by that. Plus, his name was Brian. That freaked me out. Besides, Justin cries at almost every movie we ever see. At Titanic—a movie I can’t believe I ever agreed to see—he fucking cried like a little girl!”

Fair enough. I did.

“And Michael, you cried at the movie ‘Flashdance’, for Chrissakes! Another movie I can’t believe I went to!”

Michael looks over at me sheepishly upon Brian’s revelation. “Well, it was moving, y’know?”

I shrug. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Michael looks at me incredulously. “’Flashdance’? You’ve never heard of ‘Flashdance’?”

“Yeah, well – have you ever heard of ‘Cabaret’?” I retort.

“Well...”

“See? This game is for shit.” Brian huffs. “Nothing good ever comes of it.”

“OK- tell me something true about Justin…” Michael says.

“No. I don’t want to play. Althoooough,” he says, eyebrows raised, “payback is a bitch, eh, Sunshine? Maybe I WILL play one last round.”

Uh oh.

“In bed, Justin likes to---“

“Brian!!!!” We both yell. Neither of us wants to hear the end of that sentence. 

He smirks triumphantly. “See? No one really wants to play ‘truth’.”

I sigh. “Hey, it’s letting up!” I exclaim, looking out at the beach. It’s still raining but it’s definitely lessening. 

“Fucking finally…” Brian mutters, glancing out at the boat. “It’s gonna take all night to bale out that boat. We’re fucking lucky it didn’t sink.”

I grin at him. “You cried during ‘Cabaret’…” I taunt. Michael laughs. “The impervious Brian Kinney cried during a movie…”

Brian glares at me and gives me a shove. “Justin, you better watch it. Or I’ll reveal a few things about you that will curl Mikey’s hair.”

I glance at Michael, think about it and quickly nod. “Right.” I say simply. I look out at the rain. “We should probably head back. We can probably make it with this amount of rain.”

“Right. Let’s go bale, boys!”

We set about baling out the boat and by the time we get to shaking out the tarp, the rain’s all but let up. “Look!” I exclaim. A beautiful rainbow is arcing over us, the sun just eking out from behind the clouds.

Brian squints up at the sight. “For being so infested with breeders, Maine sure has a lot of rainbow colors in its skies.”

I recall the sunset from the night before and smile to myself. “Yeah.” I say simply. Michael looks at us oddly and then gets back to work baling out the boat.

“Hey, did you bring a camera?” I ask Brian.

“No.” He snorts, disgusted at the thought. Of course not. Not Brian’s style.

“I did!” Michael pipes up. 

“Well, take a picture of the rainbow!” 

Brian rolls his eyes.

“With Brian underneath it!” I add. Michael grins. 

“Christ, Justin. Did you bring me here to torture me?” Brian groans. 

I go up to Brian and lean in to whisper in his ear. “Nah. Just show you a part of my soul.” 

His face changes at that and then he smirks. “Well, quit the shit, Sunshine,” he says, leaning down to give me a kiss. There’s a click in the background. 

“Whoa- didn’t mean to catch you guys kissing. But I got the shot. Rainbow and all.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a digital, do you? So you can just delete it?”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope.”

I go up to Michael and fix a stare at him. “I want a copy of that, Michael. ‘K?” I say pointedly. He nods.

The ride back to the dock is a little rough but we make it. Brian works on putting the boat out on its leader while Michael and I carry the stuff back to the cabin. Again, I’m impressed by Brian’s savvy. He even knows the right knots to use. ‘Who’d’ve thunk?’ As my Mom would say.

Brian finally joins us in the cabin, having secured the boat. “Looks like the storm has wheeled its way around to pour on us again,” he says, gesturing to the sky out the window. Dark clouds have closed in again. “At least we’re fucking back,” he mutters. “Mikey, you okay staying in the Little House alone?” He adds.

Michael shuffles his feet a little. Uh oh. He’s not staying in our cabin tonight, is he? “I should be okay,” he mutters.

“Michael, go to your cabin- it’s right next to ours, practically. Call Ben. Tell him how you almost died today. That might get his attention.” Brian says.

I smirk. Brian knows what buttons to push. 

“Go- before it starts raining again,” he adds.

Michael grins. “Okay.” He grabs his pack and goes into the kitchen and out the back door. 

“Brilliant.” I say to Brian, who is grinning.

“I had to get rid of him. Fucking truth or dare? And you wanted to play too? Good fucking lord, Sunshine. You’re smarter than that!”

“Well, there were no revelations about me. It was kinda fun!” I say, grinning back at him. 

“Vacation’s not over yet,” he whispers before leaning down and giving me a soft kiss on the mouth. “And you KNOW there are some things you really don’t want Mikey to know.”

I kiss him again, wincing a little at the thought. “Hmmm. Sexual things, I take it?” I say before leaning up to kiss him yet again.

“Mmmmm…” he hums while we kiss. “Of course,” he breathes after we part slightly. “I could recreate a few of those things if you want,” he whispers into my ear, making me shiver.

“What did you have in mind?” I whisper back, feeling his arms around me and his lips on my ear. I only get a low growl in response and my already hard dick twitches.


	16. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

I lean down and give Justin an intense kiss. He tastes a little like wine, cigarettes and hotdogs from lunch. And, of course: Justin. That’s the one unique flavor that, God help me, I can’t seem to get enough of. Good thing Justin’s kisses don’t have calories- or I’d be bigger’n a house. 

I get lost in the kiss and close my eyes; our tongues duel and our noses rub against one another. I feel Justin’s dick against my leg and he starts rutting against my thigh. Christ. He reaches down and begins to rub my cock through my jeans. I moan into his mouth. Or, it’s more like a growl. There’s a sudden clap of thunder and we both jump, eyes flying open. Justin laughs and swoops up, capturing my lips in another breathtaking kiss. I pull back.

“Let’s Christen the bedroom, shall we? I bet it’ll be the first gay sex this house has ever seen.”

“And the hottest sex ever-- period.” Justin breathes. 

I glance out the windows and note that the sky is impossibly dark and the wind has started to blow pretty hard. Rain has started falling and it’s pelting the windows and roof. “Hm. See? Maine’s living up to my opinion of it.” I say dryly.

“Brian, shut up! You’ve had a great time so far. I know it. Remember? I’m on to you.” He swats my ass, his arms still around me. “You shit,” he adds.

“Well, I’m just glad we’re home.” Man, am I glad. “And I’m glad we’re alone.” Man, oh MAN, am I glad.

Justin rolls his eyes in agreement at that. “Let’s go and do things that Mikey would freak out about…” he whispers, his eyes going both soft and lustful at the same time. 

I cock an eyebrow. “Maybe playing ‘truth’ DOES have its advantages…” I mutter before leaning down to kiss Justin deeply. I feel his lips curl a little in a smile.

Then Justin pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes. “Every day with you is a game of ‘truth’,” he says. “Except when you talk about feelings. Then you’re a hopelessly closed-mouthed ass. But, I know how you feel about me, Brian Aidan Kinney. Again: I’m onto you.” His eyes sparkle a little and he grins. “You shit.”

I raise an eyebrow again but say nothing. I find it’s better to not to engage Justin in conversations of this nature. I never fare very well, although I’d never admit that aloud. So I just smile and kiss him again, pulling him towards the hallway to the bedroom. Light flashes, thunder claps and then the house lights go out. Justin stumbles and I hold him up. 

“Christ! It’s dark!” He exclaims. 

And it is. We can hardly see anything in the room. Even though it’s only around 6:00, the clouds are so thick, there’s hardly any light outside the windows- except the frequent flashes of lightening. Thunder is clattering constantly and the rain is really coming down, pounding the roof and windows endlessly. It’s almost as loud as when we were on that Godforsaken ‘Folly’ island, under that tarp.

We startle when there’s a loud, insistent knocking on the back door. Jesus. Obviously, it’s Michael. Damn storm. The knocking persists and I look down at the shadowy face of Justin, who is looking at me intently. 

“Brian, is he going to have to stay here tonight?”

I rub the nape of my neck, taking my arm from around him. I suck in a deep breath. “I hope not. But you know Michael. He’s kind of a… well, he’s kind of a…”

“A baby?” Justin fills in.

Well, yeah. But I don’t say anything. I just make my way, arms outstretched to feel around the bookcases and then the kitchen counters to the backdoor, where Michael is still knocking furiously. I’m pissed. Justin and I were about to do things that are probably illegal in this fucking state and have a GREAT time doing them. I was looking forward to breaking the law, goddammit. Michael: he’s becoming our ‘coitus interruptus’ of late and it’s starting to get on my nerves. Best friend or not: he’s ticking me the fuck OFF.

I make it to the backdoor, unlock and yank it open. Michael bursts in as a loud rumble of thunder rolls overhead, shivering the glasses in the cabinet behind me. He looks terrified, very wet, and a little desperate. He switches off the flashlight he was holding and flings himself into my arms. Jesus. H. Christ.

“Michael,” I say over the storm, slamming the back door behind him. “It’s just a little storm, for Chrissakes. You’re over 30. You can handle this!” I haven’t hugged him back and I pry his arms from my frame. At this point, Justin comes up behind me and puts his arm around my waist, probably feeling the moisture Michael left there.

“I have no light and my cell is dead so I can’t call Ben!”

I roll my eyes, trying to remind myself why I have this freak for a best friend. I love him; I do. But he needs to get a backbone.

“Justin, do we have a lantern or something to give to Mikey?” I glance at Justin. “To take back to his cabin?” I add, turning a pointed look back to Michael.

“But Briannn! I don’t want to be in this storm alone!” He exclaims.

I sigh. And I can almost hear Justin rolling his eyes. Well, maybe the cabin is big enough for all of us tonight. And big enough for Justin and I to fuck without worrying about Michael hearing us or busting in. I silently wonder if the bedroom doors have locks. My eyes wander out the kitchen window to the rain and I see a sudden bolt of lightening in the near distance as an enormously loud crack of thunder crashes, making us all jump and the kitchen utensils and cookery and glasses all rattle ominously. It starts to smell a little like ozone and I peer through the thick trees at the edge of the fern garden, seeing a light that has suddenly sprung up. A fire. At the public dock.

“Shit.” I mutter to myself. 

“Brian, what?” Justin says when he’s recovered from the jolt of that last thunderclap.

“Fire.” I say quietly, somewhat in shock.

“What?”

“FIRE!” I shout as the import of what I’m looking at sets in. That last bolt hit just about 50 yards away from where we are standing. Michael swings around to look out the window and Justin gasps as he sees what I’m talking about. 

“Justin! Is there a fire extinguisher?” I say, noting the slight panic in my voice. If that fire gets going, this cabin and this whole property is toast. Not to mention Justin, Mikey and I. 

“Under the sink!” Justin shouts as he rushes off to somewhere in the back of the house.

I momentarily think of mice but push that irrelevant thought from my mind as I fling open the cabinet below me. I peer in, trying to find the extinguisher. “Where???” I yell over the noise.

“In the back, I think!”

I feel around and finally find an extinguisher-shaped object. Thankfully, I don’t feel any mice, I think in the back of my mind. I grab the extinguisher, run to the back door and fling it open. “Michael, didn’t you have a flashlight? Give it here!” I shout. He hands it to me. Then I realize Justin is right behind me. I pause a split second.

“Stay here!” I yell over the loud sounds of the storm.

“No fucking way!” He shouts back. Stubborn ass, I think. Not long ago I was thinking the same thing when we had thought someone had broken into my loft. It had turned out to be Mikey. I huff a little at the memory. Whatever: from experience, I know I won’t be able to make Justin stay behind.

“Fine! Just stay close!” I glance over at the flames beyond the trees and the blaze is growing, despite the torrential rain. I recall the dumpsters there and curse. Probably full of old oil and gas cans from the local lobstermen’s boats. Perfect fire fodder. 

We dash out, illuminated by the flickering of lightening and the dull as shit flashlight. I note that the rain is thick in the flashlight’s beam as I hold it out ahead of us; it’s like we’re running through a waterfall. My focus turns to the blaze and we run to the end of the driveway and round the corner. Both of us stop, looking at the sight before us. The entire public dock is totally in flames, the dumpsters are engulfed and a couple of the boats tied close to the docks are burning as they slowly sink into the water. I notice that flames are creeping from the dumpsters over toward the thicket of trees surrounding the Taylor’s property. Christ. I look at the smallish extinguisher in my hand and my shoulders slump. All I think we have to put out are the dumpsters - the dock fire isn’t likely to spread. But this little extinguisher isn’t close to being up to that task. 

“Come on!” Justin yells. I then notice he has a larger extinguisher in his hands. He must have gone to get it when I was fishing around under the sink for the extinguisher I have.

“Just the dumpsters!” I shout as we run towards the flames. He nods. I vaguely notice that I’m drenched and chilled to the bone. As we near the fire, I think to myself that I’m oddly grateful for the warmth of this thing that threatens to kill us. We start spraying and I notice the chemicals slowly seep into the blaze as it begins to dull. The rain helps and within 10 minutes, the dumpster fires are gone, along with the small trail of flames that were creeping towards the trees surrounding the cabin. I begin to turn to Justin when the public dock suddenly collapses into the water with a crash, audible above the wind, thunder and rain. The burning wood sizzles as it strikes the violently tossing water. 

We watch as the dock disappears into the dark waves. Justin comes up to me, the only light now being the dim beam of the flashlight I am only vaguely aware of still holding. The rain comes down in torrents; we’re both thoroughly soaked and the lightening continues to flicker and thunder rolls above us. Suddenly I find myself clenched in a desperate hug with Justin’s eager lips on me, kissing me over and over and over. I finally lean back and gasp. 

“Brian: Thank you!” He yells over the din.

I’m clueless, which I normally am NOT when it comes to Justin these last few months. I’ll ask questions later; I find myself shivering. “Let’s get inside!” I shout. He nods and we both jog back to the driveway, following the slowly fading beam of the flashlight to the backdoor of the cabin. 

We get inside and Mikey has lit candles around the house. 

I don’t know why it strikes me, but: “Sunshine, you should be thrilled. It’s like we’re back in 1804. Candlelight is all we have!” 

He grins good-naturedly and I nod my head to the main bedroom. “Mikey, we need to change.” I say simply.

“The fire’s out?”

I just look at him a second. He smiles sheepishly – and perhaps- just perhaps- he’s getting it for once. 

“Use my cell and call Ben,” I say. “It’s in the living room somewhere. And maybe think of borrowing a slicker there behind the front door and taking the phone back to your cabin?” I suggest. 

He frowns a little. I feel Justin’s hand on my wrist, tugging me towards the bathroom. I already hear a bath running. 

“Michael? Please?” Justin pleads from behind me.

“I really don’t like this storm…” Michael says pitifully. A loud crack of thunder accentuates his statement. 

I lean over to Justin and whisper in his ear… “Sunshine, with this background noise, he won’t hear a thing. And he wouldn’t come into the room…”

I watch as Justin sighs. “Fine,” he says in a low voice. I give him a small smile.

“Michael, you sleep in the guest room. And no roaming during the night. And call Ben regardless.” I yell. “And wear earplugs…” I add. Justin grins at me and leans in for a kiss. I’m more than happy to oblige.


	17. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

It’s dark in the bathroom with the lights out but we don’t fucking care- we’re so cold we just eagerly splash into the hot water and breathe sighs of relief. I look over at Brian and watch the candlelight reflect off the smooth plains of his body. He’s staring at me intently. 

“Christ, that was fucking scary, Brian.”

He nods. There’s a pause. “What was with the thanking me there before we came back in? What the fuck did I do?” 

Oh. “Well, um, if you hadn’t thought so fast, we might all be burnt to a crisp in an inferno. You probably saved our property. Hell, you probably saved the whole island!”

He snorts. “THAT’S why? Justin, Jesus- lay off the hero shit. You know I can’t stand that crap. You would’ve thought of it. Besides, you were right there with me. And WE did not save the whole island, for Chrissakes. Damned fire probably would have burned itself out anyway.”

I snicker, recalling Brian’s reaction to people finding out about his being the lone ‘Concerned Citizen for the Truth.’ He hated the attention that was lavished on him, preferring to keep his reputation as an unfeeling, no-nonsense ad man instead of the Savior of Liberty Avenue. I think back to the Victory Party at Deb’s after Stockwell was defeated. He’d hated it. 

“Well, you asked and that’s what the thank you was for,” I say simply, reveling in the warmth of the water around me.

He cocks an eyebrow in my direction. Then he shrugs. “Well, Sunshine; this has proven to be one helluva day. This storm might still be the death of us.” His words are echoed by a loud clap of thunder. I wince. “’ Course, I wouldn’t mind if it WAS the death of Michael. Christ, he’s being such a pest!” He shakes his head. Then he glances at me, a little contrite.

I smile at him. “I know you love him, Brian. It’s okay. He needs you right now. I just wish he didn’t keep showing up at all the worst possible moments.” 

He reaches over and pulls me against him. “Warming up?” He asks, kissing me deeply.

“Yeah,” I whisper as we part. “I’m actually getting kind of hot. Let’s get out and go to the bedroom.” I cock an eyebrow at him and give a sly smile. “We can do all those lewd acts that would mortify your ‘Mikey’,” I add.

“You don’t mind that he’s right here in the house, do you?”

I roll my eyes. “Normally I would, yeah. But this storm is so fucking loud, I doubt he’ll hear us.”

He reaches into the water and strokes my cock. I close my eyes and lick my lips. “Ahhh … Christ, let’s go!”

We get up, dry off and pull on our robes. Brian opens the door as I hug him from behind. And: there on the other side of the door, we find Michael, poised to knock. He looks at us, startled.

“Mikey…” Brian seethes.

“I made some dinner.” Michael announces. 

“You what?” I ask, incredulous. 

“I made dinner. Good thing the stove here is a gas one. Were it electric, we’d be screwed.”

Brian and I exchange glances, both thinking that we ARE screwed with Michael around. And not in the positive, life-affirming sort of way.

“Michael, we need to change.” Brian huffs, yanking me into the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He shoves me onto the bed, sheds his robe and climbs over me.

“But Briiiiannn!!” Michael whines through the door.

“Mikey, leave us alone! We’ll be out in awhile!” Brian shouts back. “God, I think I may actually kill him…” he mutters to me over the storm. Which has not shown signs of letting up, from the sounds of it. “Ben better not dump him. If this keeps up, I’ll really end up killing him.”

I grin up at him. “I’ll load the gun for you,” I say helpfully.

He looks at me. “Now; where were we?” He asks, leaning down to kiss me. I kiss him intently as I squirm out of my robe. 

“Ahhhhhhh… God! Brian--!” I gasp as our bodies lay flush and naked against each other. We rub our cocks together, leaning up into another furious kiss. 

“Did you just call me God?” He breathes, reaching his hand down to stroke my dick.

“I thought you hated hero worship,” I breathe back, holding back a smirk. “But you know what? After the first night we were together, I told Daphne that I’d seen the face of God. And his name was Brian Kinney.”

Brian stops his ministrations and he eyes me. “You what?”

“You heard me…” And I was right; although you’re now a human to me too, I think to myself.

He snickers. “You actually said that you’d ‘seen the face of God and his name was Brian Kinney’?”

I look at him warily. “Um. Yeah.”

“Justin, you…” He’s started laughing full on. “You are such a fucking…”

I frown. “Yes, yes, yes. It’s established now: I’m a sap. You’ve said it often enough this trip.”

“You actually SAID that shit? To Daphne???” He’s practically rolling.

I continue frowning. “What’s so wrong about that? You’re beautiful, you know that.” He guffaws at that. “And face it: you were my first.” And, God willing: my last, I think to myself- despite my annoyance at his behavior right now. “Plus I was only 17, Brian. What do you expect?”

“And now you’re what? 19?”

“Almost 20.” I protest.

“Riiiiight.” He’s still laughing. 

I don’t get why this is so fucking funny to him. “What is so fucking funny about this?” I ask over the storm, shoving him. He’s laughing so hard he collapses next to me.

“I don’t know. You’re just so melodramatic! It was just a fuck!”

“Brian! I think we BOTH know now that THAT was not just a fuck! It was my first time. And it was fantastic. And Jesus- I met your newborn son that night. I fucking NAMED him, for Chrissakes!” I’m starting to get really pissed.

He’s still giggling. “Justin,” he finally manages. I glare at him, sitting up. “Justin,” he says again. “Fine. You’re right. It wasn’t just a fuck.” I’m kind of amazed at that admission, but I say nothing. “But, Christ: I’m no God. I’m nowhere even CLOSE. ”

“Brian, listen, I know you’re not God. A God, whatever. By now, I sure as Hell know that. You’re as human as they come. Sometimes superhuman, but human. Sometimes SUBhuman, but human, nonetheless. But, Brian, you ARE beautiful, you fucking shit. Michelangelo’s ‘David’ kind of beautiful. Ethereal beautiful. Inside and out.” There, I said it. And he can live with it too, the jerkweed.

“Gangly, tall, weird bird kind of beautiful?” He chuckles, referring to the comparison I made between Brian and a Great Blue Heron we saw on our drive in to the cabin. I swat at him and roll my eyes. Then suddenly he sobers and stares at me. “No. Justin, you’re deluded. While I’d FUCK me, I’m NOT beautiful. Nothing like you are… or like Gus is,” he says, reaching his hand out to cup my cheek. I’m a little shocked he says something as oddly tender as that and I lean into his touch, despite myself- I’m still a little pissed. “Justin, I’m just laughing that you’d think that. I’m the product of Jack and Joanie Kinney, remember? I’m demon spawn!”

I twinge at the reference to Brian’s abusive parents and cut my eyes away. I HATE those two people. I fucking hate them-- and I hate Brian’s fucked up sister and HER demon spawn. I look at him, trying to keep the anger at his fucked family out of my eyes. “Brian, you are the apple that fell as far away from that family tree as possible.”

He gets a rare and vulnerable look in his eyes- which is quickly gone as his guard goes back up. “Fuck it!” He exclaims, exasperated. He hates feeling exposed and he has unwittingly found himself talking about his family. This is not the direction this was supposed to go, I think in the back of my mind. He’s clearly thinking the same thing.

Still: it’s important. For some reason, this has suddenly become important to me that he really hears this. That he’s nothing like his royally fucked up family. “It’s true, Brian. You’re nothing like your total whack-job of a family. I don’t know how it happened- maybe it’s you finding Michael, Deb and Vic when you did. Or maybe it’s just innately YOU. But Brian, you are nothing like your family. You’re just a victim of---“ 

Something about Brian’s sudden look stops me cold. It occurs to me that, of course, he does not like being referred to as a victim.   
I quickly take up a new tack: “…You just have an amazingly jacked up family that didn’t and DOESN’T know how unbelievable you were and are.” I say gently, putting my hand on his cheek.

Brian flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, watching the lightening flickering in through the windows. “This isn’t an after school special, Justin,” he mutters, turning his head towards me. 

“Brian.” I say simply, turning toward him. I feel bad for bringing all this up. It was inadvertent, though- how would I know my revelation of what I told Daphne that day would lead to this? He’s the reason for this mutating into an overblown hissy fit. Fucking drama queen. I lean down and kiss him sweetly, trying to get rid of the ghosts that have appeared in the past few moments. He leans into the kiss and things begin to heat up. 

“Brian.” I say again in between kisses. “You know that, don’t you?”

He looks at me confused. “Know what…?”

“That you are nothing like the fucked up family you grew up in…? That you are beautiful… Inside and out?”

A veiled look of pain passes over his features. “Justin, let’s just drop it, okay?”

I sigh. “Fine, Brian. But this isn’t over. While you aren’t a God, you are NOT demon spawn, Brian. Far, far, far from it.”

He glances at me. “Whatever, Sunshine.”

There’s a knock on the door. 

“CHRIST!” Brian yells. “Michael! What!?”

“You guys done?”

“NO!!!” We both yell. “Call BEN!” Brian adds.

“I’m scared…” Michael says through the door. “This storm isn’t letting up.”

”Uh huh. Mikey, puuuuuuuuuleeeeeeeeeeeze… give us at least 45 minutes, would you?” Brian pleads. 

“It’s been 45 minutes!” Michael calls through the door. 

I quickly cover myself as Brian gets up and stomps over to the door, completely naked- although I doubt he’s even aware of it. He wouldn’t care, anyway. It never ceases to amaze me how at home in his nudity he is. He yanks open the door. “MICHAEL!” He yells. “Michael, give us ANOTHER 45 minutes, for Chrissakes! Get some wine, call Ben -as I’ve been telling you to do all day!- and give us some time!”

Michael’s eyes rake over him a moment then he averts his eyes. Uh huh. Cue eye roll. It’s like on the island when Brian was changing in the lean-to. Michael always stares at Brian- and does it unabashedly when he’s confronted with a naked Brian. Which, given Brian’s total lack of self-consciousness, is unfortunately more often than you’d think. It used to piss me off, but now I actually think it’s kind of funny. And a little pathetic.

“Fine, asshole,” Michael huffs. “Fuck him into the mattress as I sit alone in the living room with rain pounding the roof and thunder cracking left and right.”

“Quit with the melodrama.” Brian sighs. “You’re over 30. You can suck it up and deal. If the bogeyman shows up, just direct him to our bedroom. I like threesomes.”

I chuckle. Michael cuts him a dirty look.

“And CALL BEN!” Brian adds loudly, accentuating his statement by closing the door on his now-angry-looking best friend.

Brian turns and I see the scowl on his face. I’m grinning. He looks really frustrated and it’s kinda cute.

“Brian, relax. He’s just scared.”

“Not anymore. Now he’s just pissed.”

“Was that the plan? Piss him off just to distract him from being scared?”

“No. That was an added benefit for chewing him out.”

Brian comes to bed and falls on top of me. “How many times will I be saying ‘where were we?’ on this trip, I wonder…”

“As long as Michael is here, I’d say: quite a few,” I answer, still grinning. He leans down and kisses me, effectively stopping all conversation. Our tongues wrap around each other and I revel in the taste that is uniquely Brian. The taste that, God help me, I can’t get enough of. Ever. He moans and impatiently pushes off the robe I’d quickly covered myself with before he’d opened the door to Michael.

“Christ, I need to be inside you,” he mutters. “Roll over. Roll over: Now.”

I eagerly roll over onto my stomach. Brian props a pillow under me, my ass now in the air. He leans over me and bites my neck and sucks on my earlobe and I shiver. After all these years, we know each other’s bodies like our own. Better, actually. I moan as he nips, kisses and licks his way down my back, leaving a wet trail on my decidedly heated skin. “God… Brian…”

“I just said: Don’t call me that…” he mutters. I know he’s just joking and I manage to snort a short laugh but I’m so lost in the sensations he’s making me feel that I’m immediately moaning again. 

“Ahhhhhgh!” I shout as I feel his fingers spread my ass cheeks and his tongue trail down into my crack. I feel his hot tongue lick around my hole and my fists inadvertently clench the blanket we’re laying on as he pushes it inside. “Fuuuuuuuuuuu…!!!” is all I can manage as I feel him fuck me with his tongue.

He bites my ass cheeks playfully and then I feel his finger push inside me. His fingers are so beautifully long- for which I am grateful as I jump when he grazes my prostate. “Shit!” I try to rut against the pillow I’m laying on but he uses his free hand to steady my hips. “Briiiiannn!!!” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize I’m whining like I’d sworn never to do again—but fuck it…

He slaps my ass and the sting is delicious. I feel him insert another finger and I exhale at the intrusion. His fingers rub over my prostate again and I moan. “Brian… fucking fuck me! Fuck the shit out of me! NOW!” I yell.

I hear him chuckle lightly. “Turn around,” he says quietly, and I groan as he removes his fingers. I wiggle around, yanking the pillow out from under me. I gawk at him and am amazed how I never tire of looking at him when he’s turned on. Well, I never tire of looking at him, period, I guess. His cock is bobbing in front of me as he straddles my thighs. He looks at me hungrily. He hands me a condom. “Put it on me. Put it on my dick.”

I flash back to our first time together. I take the condom and slip it on him. He grabs the lube from the nightstand and works it into my hole with his fingers. “It’s cold!” I say, playing the game he’s apparently playing. He grins.

“It’ll heat up…”

He positions his cockhead at my hole and pushes. “Aghhhh!” I breathe out. I stop playing the game because I know what’s about to come (besides me)- and I know the brief moment of pain will quickly be overwhelmed by intense pleasure. He and I are like two pieces of a puzzle that fit. Just FIT. 

He starts a rhythm, my legs draped over his shoulders. “Christ, Justin!” He mutters as I reach up and push myself against the headboard, pushing myself down to meet his every thrust.

“Briiii… auughhhh. God….” Later, I realize I called him God again, but neither of us notices at this moment. For obvious reasons. “Briiiiaan!” 

He reaches down to jack me off but I push his hand away. It’s kind of incredible, but by now, he’s so attuned to where to thump, graze my prostate, I rarely need any stimulation to my dick—if I do, if I jack off while he fu- while he makes love to me-- I cum too fast. Not that he ever seems to mind that, which is why he still reaches for my cock. He’s fucked me through three orgasms several times- he just stayed hard, not cumming, as I was brought to three orgasms. I was always exhausted. And my ass always ached the next day, that’s for sure. But it was also always SO amaaaaaazing…

“Fuuuuuuuuu…!” I yell as I feel myself going over the edge. Brian keeps thrusting as I feel the warm spurts of my cum spray onto my chest, stomach and face. I feel Brian cum shortly after me with a grunt, his cock pulsating, embedded in my ass. God, I love that feeling. This feeling. Brian slumps down against me, our sweat and my cum smearing between us. He kisses me deeply.

“Fuck.” He says simply, looking at me. His gorgeous hazel eyes are soft with satiation. And, dare I say it: love. Though he’d literally kill me if I ever verbalized that.

There’s a loud clap of thunder and we both startle.

“Briannnnn!” 

Michael.

Brian rolls his eyes and sighs. “Michael, give us a few more minutes.”

“It’s been over an hour!”

“Well, we’ll be right out, okay?”

”Fine.” Is the snorted reply beyond the door. 

I sigh contentedly. And look at my partner. “Brian?”

He gets a guarded look in his eye as the skies pour down in a deafening din onto the roof above us. After a moment, he cocks an eyebrow expectantly. 

I look into his eyes and take a deep breath. “Brian: I love you. More than anything, anybody. And you ARE beautiful, in and out. And you are NOTHING like your family. It feels important to me that you hear me…”

He somehow smiles and frowns at the same time, and then he huffs. “Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“Brian,” I laugh. “That is SO not true and you know it! I’m ONTO you. Remember?”

He snorts and leans over for a brief kiss. “Fine. Be onto me. Just stop talking shit.”

I snort back and let it go for now. “So: I guess we go and face the Medusa that is Michael?”

He sighs. “We better at least clean ourselves off. We really smell of sex…” He grins and leans down to lap up the cum that is spread all over my torso. He’s already kissed the cum off of my face. I moan with pleasure and will myself not to get hard again. Which isn’t working, I’m afraid. When he’s done he kisses me and I taste myself on his tongue. I push him off and onto his back to return the favor.

We kiss again, then look at each other, sighing: Time to go out into the living room. That thought alone gets rid of the boner I just developed. We get dressed, brace ourselves and then walk out of the room.

“FINALLY!” Michael exclaims as thunder grumbles loudly overhead. The candles are getting lowish. “And if you think I couldn’t hear you, you’re wrong, you know,” he pouts. 

I blanch. Christ, that is SO going to haunt me. Michael HEARD? 

“Plus, dinner’s cold.” He adds.

“We can heat it up, Mikey. And, well…” Brian pauses. “And, even though sorry is bullshit: I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s just that Justin and I—“

“--Had to fuck each other senseless. As I said: I heard.” 

Shut up, shut up, shut up!!! I beg Michael silently. 

“We just wanted a little time alone, Michael!” Brian says, trying to keep his temper under control. “Now, as I said, I’m sorry I yelled at you and we’ll just go heat up the food, okay?”

I slump into a chair and try to regain some sense of composure. Brian is unfazed. But of course, Michael’s heard him having sex a million times. But he hasn’t heard ME, and it freaks me the fuck out that he just did. Was I really that loud?

Michael looks up at his best friend and relents. “Yeah, well. I guess I’m sorry I interrupted you so much. This is just a hard time and all, you know. I don’t mean to lean on you so hard.”

Brian’s expression softens. “You can lean on me, Mikey. Just give us a little time to ourselves, ‘k?”

Michael nods and goes to Brian, hugging him. After a moment, Brian breaks the hug and looks over at me- I’m still freaking over what Michael just revealed. “Justin?” He says.

I avert my eyes. 

He starts to laugh. “Justin, Mikey heard us fucking… so what? It’s not like he thinks we don’t do it!” I should have known he’d know what I was thinking.

“…” 

My brilliant response.

“Justin! Aw, come on! Help me heat up Michael’s meal.” He reaches out a hand, beckoning me to get out of the chair and follow him. I look at his hand a moment, then glance at his face. He’s still chuckling. “It’s okay, Sunshine. Mikey’s not a baby. He knows what sex sounds like. He even knows what sex with ME sounds like.”

Not from one-on-one experience, I smirk to myself. Then I shrug. I guess he’s right. While I’m still a little spooked, I choose to let it go and I reach up for Brian’s hand. He yanks me to my feet and we all go into the kitchen.

“So, what’s on the menu, Mikey?” Brian says good-naturedly. 

Michael is happy again and grins. “Chicken Cacciatore!”

Brian and I glance at each other, recalling the last time we had that. After some mind-blowing sex. Which was after my little meltdown. Okay, okay: my BIG meltdown. After the accident Brian, Hunter and I were in. I smile, thinking about how I now at least remember all of the prom, as that meltdown proved. Brian’s smiling too, looking at me slyly.

“Okay. This is easy.” Brian says, simply turning on the burner. “Any salad, Mikey?”

“We can make one!” He says, smiling. A sudden lightening bolt and loud crack of thunder from nearby has us all looking out the window to see if any more fires are springing up. Now, we hardly startle at the loud storm noises anymore and we’ve become accustomed to communicating in near shouts. I just hope we aren’t going deaf from the cacophony of noises around us. 

Nope: No fires. We all glance at each other and laugh a little at our fears.

“Okay. Let’s eat!” I say, looking over at the bubbling concoction on the stove. I notice capers and cast a worried glance at the oblivious Brian. He hates those things.


	18. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

We sit down at the table and I eye the Chicken Cacciatore suspiciously. “Are these capers?” I ask, noticing that the trepidation is quite evident in my voice.

Justin eyes me warily.

“Yeah! Don’t you just love them?” Mikey asks happily.

I keep silent and begin picking them out of the goulash on my plate.

“What? You don’t like capers?” Michael asks incredulously. I notice Justin subtly shaking his head ‘no’ in Mikey’s direction. “Fuck, Brian! I’m sorry! I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, I’ll just pick them out.” We all jump slightly at a sudden crack of thunder. “Christ, will this storm ever let up?” I mutter. If anything, it sounds like it’s picked up more strength and I glance over at the windows, hoping they don’t implode from the wind and rain. The power is still out and I’ve decidedly had my share of candlelight for the year, thank you very much. 

“Where’d you get the capers, Michael? I didn’t buy any.” Justin asks.

I snort. “YOU didn’t buy any? I don’t recall YOU paying for that boatload of groceries.”

“Fine. I didn’t pick up any capers off the shelf; BRIAN didn’t buy any,” he concedes- but with a decided attitude, I note.

“They were in the kitchen closet.” Mikey states simply.

I guffaw. “In the closet, eh? And you wonder why I hate capers? So, how old are these things?”

“We clean the place out before winter every year, so don’t worry about that, you jerk.” Again with the attitude, dear old Sunshine? Uh huh. I don’t think so. I glance up and flick a caper at him. He ducks but it still hits him. Ha! Fucker. 

Justin glares at me with mock anger. “Dumbass.” 

I get serious when I hear the wind suddenly get louder, apparently changing direction. It starts whistling through the small gap under the front door. “Justin, does this place have a radio that runs on batteries? After dinner we should probably see what this storm’s gonna do to us. I mean, Christ; by tomorrow, we may not be in Kansas anymore.”

Michael gets a confused look, apparently not getting the reference. “Kansas? You mean Maine.”

“Right, Mikey. Sorry. My mistake…” I say, not wanting to get into it.

Justin is chuckling. “Well, Dorothy,” he says to me, “I’m pretty sure we have at least one radio that takes batteries. If not, we can use a hanger and rig up the tin man.” 

See? This is why I find myself less and less weirded out that Justin is 12 years my junior. He’s erudite. He’s smart. He gets me. (‘Course, getting a reference to The Wizard of Oz doesn’t a genius make…) Still, I grin. “Good boy, Toto.” I say, tossing another caper at him, this one pinging off his forehead. I snicker. 2 for 2. Okay, I’ll admit that maybe I sometimes act 12 years HIS junior-- but immaturity goes both ways, trust me- he has his moments. I glance over to notice Justin rolling his eyes and picking the missive off the table, popping it in his mouth. 

“That’s actually a good idea, Brian,” Justin says, now more thoughtful, worriedly eyeing the storm pounding the expansive panel of windows behind Mikey. 

I nod as I continue picking out the offending capers. Finally satisfied that I probably got all of them, I take a bite. “This isn’t bad, Mikey.” I say, chewing. He grins at me, his mouth full of food. I watch as he shovels another bite into his mouth and I snort; “Christ, Mikey- why didn’t you ever learn how to hold a fork like an adult?”

Michael just sneers at me. “Shut up, Brian. Pay attention to your own meal.”

Justin and I share a covert look. This is something Justin’s mentioned to me several times- the childish way Mikey holds his fork really bugs him for some reason. Country Club upbringing, I guess. ‘Why don’t you just teach him how to hold a fucking fork, Brian? It’s so annoying!’ He always says. 

‘Because that’s Ben’s job.’ I always reply. Besides, to me, it’s kind of funny in a pathetic sort of way. At the same time, why Deb never taught him when he was a kid --- or Vic for that matter (he IS a chef, after all)- is beyond me. 

“So, when do Ben and Hunter arrive?” I ask, dropping the subject. 

Michael shrugs. “Probably the day after tomorrow. I haven’t talked to him yet. I’ll talk to him after dinner.”

I groan. “Then Theodore and Emmett come up, followed by the merry munchers and Gus.” Hardly relaxing. Although, at the same time, Michael will finally be in his own cabin with Ben and Hunter, and Justin and I will have some privacy again. That’s one good thing. 

“Oh, I forgot. Ted and Emmett don’t think they can come. I talked to Emmett before I caught the plane. He’s got this last minute bash to plan.” Michael tells me.

I find myself breathing a small sigh of relief. “Oh. Okay.”

We eat in silence for awhile. Well, WE’RE silent. The weather is anything but. It’s kind of creepy sounding, like we’re in a horror movie or something. I actually find it cool (minus the frigid temperature- and of course, the danger). But, it’s very Frankenstein-y; I’m tempted to bellow a deep, mad scientist-like belly laugh--- but, of course, I don’t dare- nor do I voice any of these thoughts aloud, what with the two wig-out queens I’m sitting with. They wouldn’t see the humor in it at all- instead, they’d freak.

“I’m just glad we made it off that island,” Justin says, breaking the silence and pulling me out of my thoughts. “We’d be dead by now, I bet.”

What a drama princess. I smirk and get up, taking my plate to the sink to rinse it off before placing it in the dishwasher. “Where’s the radio, Justin?”

“In our room. I think the one on the nightstand will work with batteries.”

I pick up a candle and walk through the murk of the hallway into the bedroom. Night’s fallen and aside from the frequent lightening flashes, it’s totally black; even with this candle, I have a hard time seeing my way. I stub my toe on a chair and curse loudly.

“You okay in there?” Justin calls.

I grimace. “Yeah. Fuck, I can’t see for shit it’s so dark!” I dimly spy the radio on the nightstand and grab it. I yank the plug from the wall and take it back into the living room. “Justin do we have to use the flashlight batteries, or do you know where some are?”

“Check that drawer,” he says, pointing.

I pull open the drawer and reach in, feeling around instead of bothering to squint into the gloom. I successfully find a few batteries; I hook up the clock radio and fidget with the knob, listening to the various stations until I find one that sounds suitable. 

“…worst storm we’ve seen since 1988, when several cabins were washed off their foundations and into the ocean. There’s already been a fire reported in Pretty Marsh and the public dock is apparently gone. We don’t know who put out the fires that were reportedly raging in the dumpsters, fueled by discarded gas and oil cans- but there are reports that two individuals actually braved this storm to put them out. We have a couple of anonymous heroes in our midst…”

Justin grins at me. “We’re heroes!”

I just frown. “Christ! Who the hell would have seen us out there? There’s no one out in this weather. Jesus, there’s no one even on this side of the fucking island!”

“There are homes across the bay by the dock that aren’t that far from us- I’m sure there were people who were probably watching the blaze with binoculars. A fire like that is hard to miss.”

I humph. “This is for shit.” I turn off the radio. 

“Brian! The radio was your idea!” Justin says.

“Yeah, well, I hate hero worship. And all they’re saying is what we already know: that (duh) this is a fucking bad storm. Besides, if there were any hurricanes or tidal waves or other apocalyptic crises happening, they wouldn’t be talking about the fucking crapped-out public dock being ‘apparently gone’, and two ‘anonymous heroes’. If that’s the biggest thing they have to talk about, I say: fuck it.”

Justin smirks. “Brian’s a hero…” he sing songs. 

I glare at him. “You went out there too, you ass.” 

He just grins. “I honestly wouldn’t have if you hadn’t.”

“That WAS pretty risky, Brian, charging out there like that.” Mikey says.

“He’s Rage, Michael… remember?” Justin purrs, looking at me with exaggerated adoration.

Good fucking grief. “Shut up, JT.” I murmur as he bats his lashes at me. “Or you’ll be a damsel in decided distress.” I add.

He smirks and then gets a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, a lot of the shit we’ve been through here could SO be in the next issue of the comic…” he muses.

Michael looks at him and then shrugs before going into the kitchen. “That’s a good idea- we’ll have to talk about it,” he says, pulling open a cabinet door. “You guys want any dessert?” He calls over his shoulder.

I scoff but Justin eagerly nods yes. “Blueberry pie!” He coos. “C’mon, Brian, have some with us! You have to try some – after all, you’re in Maine! The pies are made with Maine blueberries!”

‘Well, duh,’ I think to myself. “What time is it?”

“About 6:15.” Justin says quickly, not even looking at his watch. 

Liar. I grab his wrist to see the time. “It’s fucking 9pm, Justin. No carbs after 7, ‘member?”

He snorts. “You’re on vacation. Get over yourself. Besides, you’re a fucking twig, Bri.”

Michael comes over to the table and puts a piece of pie in front of Justin, knowing better than to put one in front of me. “What, no Cool Whip?” I ask. Mikey then plops the tub of Cool Whip on the table.

Justin digs into the pie and holds up his fork to my face. “Come on! Just try it!” He insists. I relent and take the proffered bite, looking into his eyes as the fork disappears into my mouth. He watches me and licks his lips. He removes the fork and gazes at me as I chew slowly; I cock an eyebrow as I look at him. Justin’s eyes twinkle in the candlelight and he raises an eyebrow in return, a small smile playing on his lips. 

He reaches down and puts another bite on his fork, adding some Cool Whip. He holds it up to my mouth, his other hand cupping under the utensil in case any spills. I shake my head. He looks at me a little confused. “Your finger.” I say simply. 

Justin grins devilishly, putting down the fork. He sticks his finger into the piece of pie, bringing it up to my lips. I suck his finger into my mouth and wrap my tongue around it. I’m somewhat amused as I know how incredibly turned on he gets when I suck his fingers; I go to town. He watches my ministrations, entranced.

“Jesus Christ, you two! Get a room!” Michael says, disgusted. For a moment, I hold Justin’s finger in my mouth before finally releasing it. He presses the pad of his middle finger against my lips and I kiss it, my eyes never leaving his face.

“More?” He asks quietly.

“Sure,” I shrug. “I’m on vacation.”

Justin lifts another fingerful to my lips and watches as I suck it into my mouth, savoring the sweet blueberry flavor as I roll my tongue slowly. I’m getting hard and judging by the expression on Sunshine’s face, he’s already hard. He’s a little breathless and can’t seem to take his eyes off of the sight of my mouth trapping his finger. 

“God!” Mikey snorts. “What the hell is with you two!? Does EVERYthing have to be sexual with you?!” He grabs his plate of pie and stomps into the living room. Which, really, is the same room, as the dining and living room are all one big room. 

I ignore him, staying focused on Justin. Justin, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to have even registered that Michael said anything. He’s just staring at me with an engrossed expression on his face. He sighs softly. I hold back a smirk; he’s so easy. I swirl my tongue around his finger once more for effect; suddenly he removes it from my mouth and leans up to me, capturing my lips into a deep kiss, tasting the blueberry in my mouth. “God, Brian,” he whispers above the din. “You. Me. This pie. The bedroom. Now!” 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Michael protests from his seat behind Justin. “You’re not leaving me alone in here with this storm fucking raging!”

“Michael, you’ve done it before. All of four hours ago, actually. Just call Ben; by the way, that’s the last time I’m going to say that. Oh, and try to build a fire.” I suddenly realize that he’ll probably burn the house down if he tries to do that and inwardly I roll my eyes. “Never mind that. I’ll build one later.” I add.

Justin’s eyes and mine are still locked. Justin breaks our gaze just long enough to grab the whole pie and the Cool Whip. “Come on!” He sighs sexily- apparently still completely unaware of Mikey’s presence. I grab a couple of candleholders and follow him back through the dark hallway to the bedroom. 

“Fine, assholes! You’re like a fucking couple of newlyweds! Or actually, more like a couple of newlyweds fucking!” Michael calls after us.

Normally I would have balked at that, but I let it go. “Whatever the fuck, Mikey!” I call back as we reach the room. Justin closes the door behind us and grins up at me. He reaches over and puts the pie onto the nightstand with the Cool Whip. I set down the candles. Justin flinches at a crack of thunder just outside the window.

I lean down and kiss him. “’S’okay, Justin.” I whisper.

He shivers and smiles up at me. “I know. This storm is just getting fucking old.”

“Tell me about it.” I kiss him again, my tongue slipping into his mouth. “That pie isn’t bad.” I add.

He eyes me evilly. “You have no idea what you’re in for, Brian,” he says, raising his eyebrow in warning. He reaches over and shoves his finger into the pie, bringing it up to my mouth. 

I glance at the blueberry and crust-covered finger. “You are so weird,” I say.

He grins and looks at me with lust. He’s in rare form at the moment, I note to myself. I take his finger into my mouth and suck it dry. I reach down and squeeze his hard cock through his pants. My dick has been hard now for awhile and I shift my jeans to relieve some of the pressure. “Christ, Justin…” I move to kiss him and get lost in his mouth, my hand still fisting his hard cock through his pants. 

“Yeah…” he says breathily. I flash to the time I found Justin in New York. He had said ‘yeah’ in the same way then when I commented how I must stink- it got to me then like it does right now. He reaches up and pulls off my sweater. Then he grabs my jeans and undoes the buttons, yanking the pants down over my ass. My cock springs free; Justin looks down at me I see him licking his lips. I shiver as the cold of the cabin creeps into my skin.

“Strip. Get under the blankets. And do it now.” I command, undressing myself all the way and crawling under the covers on the bed. The temperature has dropped considerably in the hours since this storm hit- and the cabin isn’t winterized. It’s probably in the 40’s in here. I wait impatiently for Justin to undress and join me. He’s soon next to me naked, and I’m confronted with another finger of blueberry pie in my face. I snort. “Justin, are you- uh, you trying to get me fat?”

He snorts back. “Brian, you are practically a poster child for ‘people who are too skinny’!” 

I laugh. “There are poster children for such causes?” I take his finger into my mouth, silencing any response from Justin. “Justin, can I start sucking things other than fingers?” I breathe out. “I’d rather get my calories through other means.”

“Yes…” he whispers over the storm, snuggling, his naked body rubbing against me. We warm ourselves against each other. Then he gets another evil glint in his eye. “It’s time for me to get MY calories,” he announces. He immediately throws the blankets off of us and I feel a sudden chill. Then I feel a slightly warm sensation against my cock and look down; my dick has rather quickly been slathered with blueberry pie. “Hrmmmmmph!” I hear as Justin engulfs me eagerly.

I throw my head back and moan. “Fuck!”

“Mmmmmmmmm….” He hums and my dick vibrates. I moan again. He runs his tongue up the vein on the underside of my penis and then wraps it around the head, pushing into my piss slit. 

“Christ!” I yell. 

He’s looking at me intently when he pulls up and he releases my dick from his mouth. Somewhere in the back of my head, I note he’s been very thorough and there’s no evidence of blueberry left. He fixes me in a lust-filled gaze. “Fuck the pie.” He says simply.

I guffaw. “What???”

“Fuck the pie!” He demands. 

I start laughing. “’Fuck the PIE’?” I say incredulously. “That’s fucking WEIRD, Justin!”

“Fuck. The. Pie.” He insists, not laughing. And, quite frankly, it freaks me out a little.

“Justin, Christ- I’m into kink- you know that. But your attachment to food is starting to scare me. Just slather it on me.” I say.

“Sit up onto your knees.” He commands. 

I hesitate but then oblige. When he gets like this, it’s best to go along with him. Besides, it always ends up being hot.

He stares at my cock, holds the pie up at my dick level and then turns his eyes to mine. “Shove your cock into the pie.” He hisses.

I’m a little taken aback; but fine… whatever. I shove my dick into the pie. It comes out purple and blue with Maine blueberries. It feels kind of… cool. Justin shoves a towel under my legs before taking away the pie from beneath me. Then he swallows my cock whole. I feel him deep throat me, the head of my dick bumping the back of his soft throat repeatedly. “Auuughhhhh….” I moan loudly. 

After awhile of me fucking his face and him sucking me like there’s no tomorrow, he pulls away. “This time, fuck the pie, and THEN the Cool Whip.” He says sternly. 

Is it REALLY food first with this guy? I suddenly wonder to myself.

“Justin…” I begin to protest.

“C’mon…” He then grins up at me, wickedly. His chin and lips are covered with blueberry. 

I’m too close to cumming to argue. I grab the pie and stick my dick in it; he holds out the tub of fucking Cool Whip and I sigh slightly before I comply. He looks up at me and then down at my cock, which is dripping blueberries and Cool Whip and pre-cum. “Delicious.” He says, licking his lips before leaning in to suck me off with a vengeance. After a moment, I find myself crying out as I cum into his mouth; he eagerly milks my cock through the last spasms of my orgasm. “Hrmmmmmmm….” He keens as my cock finally drops from his mouth. “God, Brian.” He gasps. “I hope you know: While you taste a million times better than any blueberry pie- the combination of your cum and Maine blueberries is a fantastic treat.” I flop back onto the bed, spent. He rises up to lay beside me, face to face. I pull up the quilt to cover our bodies. I lick the remnants of pie, Cool Whip and my cum off of his face. He kisses me and I savor what’s left on his tongue- again: blueberry, Cool Whip and me. It IS a nice combination. Justin sighs and I can smell the combination of flavors on his breath.

Once I’ve sufficiently come to my senses I finally smirk. “Justin, you are SUCH a freak.”

He ignores me and sighs again, contented. 

I reach down and find that he’s only semi-hard. Huh?

He looks at me sheepishly and I then notice a distinctive wet spot next to me. I laugh. “Got yourself off, eh?”

“Well, I got off tasting you, the blueberry off your cock… the Cool Whip…” He grins over the storm, kissing me. 

I just smile. “Oh.”

“Briannnn!”

“Christ, Brian!” Justin groans. 

“Michael, go to bed!” I yell.

“I talked to Ben!” I can hear the pout in Michael’s voice. 

I look at Justin sympathetically. “Okay. SO?” I call out to him, snuggling closer to Justin, not even bothering to avoid the wet spot. I kind of like it, actually. It’s kind of hot, to be honest. I’m not sure I know exactly why.

“Briannn!!! The storm isn’t letting up- weren’t you going to light a fire? It’s fucking cold! Oh, and they’re planning on coming tomorrow instead of the day after—they’re flying into Boston and renting a car!”

I sigh. “Okay. But I’m kind of beat- we’ll make a fire tomorrow morning!” I call to him.

“Briannnn!”

I glance at Justin; he rolls his eyes in the candlelight as the thunder crashes outside.

“WHAT?” Justin and I both yell.

There’s a pause. “Nothing.” He says finally, defeated.

I groan and look over at Sunshine again, feeling a little bad. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter.

He sighs and nods. I grab my robe from where it was discarded on the floor earlier in the afternoon and wrap it around me, shivering a little. I wander out into the hall. “Mikey?” I call. He opens his bedroom door and looks at me. 

“Yeah?” He says in a small voice.

“What did Ben say?” I ask simply. 

Mikey gets a stricken look and rushes over to hug me. What is with all this hugging all of a sudden? “He’s coming tomorrow. He sounded really serious, Brian. He sounded kinda ominous…”

I roll my eyes, hugging him back. “Mikey, you’re reading too much into shit. Just relax. It’ll be fine.” It’s now that I make a mental note to talk to Ben alone. To see just what the fuck’s going on here.

He just squeezes me tightly and stays silent. Then he looks up. “You smell like blueberries, you know that?” He says, sniffing. Then his eyes get big. “And fucking cum, Brian!” 

I find myself almost blushing, but I recover quickly. “I’m not surprised. I fucked a blueberry pie, after all.”

Michael steps back and swats me. “You WHAT? You sick fuck!” He laughs. His look is a mixture of turned on, shocked and utterly mortified. “You fucked a pie? I never thought you felt that strongly for food!” He gasps in an exaggerated tone.

I smirk. Well, I feel strongly for someone who feels strongly for food, I think to myself. “Yeah, well, I don’t really. But Jus---“

Mikey holds up his hands. “Stop! Stop! I don’t want to know!” 

I shrug. “’Kay. You alright for the night?”

His expression gets serious again. “Yeah. Thanks, Brian.”

“It’s fine Mikey. Stop stressing so much. Just get some sleep.” I pull him into another hug and then turn to go into the bathroom to clean myself off a little. I get back to the bedroom and find Justin sitting up waiting for me. 

“Things okay?” 

“As okay as they can be,” I say, shedding my robe and climbing under the covers. “He smelled the blueberry. And the cum.”

He looks at me aghast. “Really? Shit! What did you say?”

I shrug. “I told him the truth. That I fucked a pie.”

Justin gets a funny look. And then he starts laughing. “Oh my God, Brian! That is so gross!”

“Hey! YOU fucking demanded I fuck the pie!”

“I know, I know! Not that!” He’s still laughing. “I mean, that Michael noticed- and knows- THAT’S gross!”

I pause, thinking about it a moment. “Yeah. It is kinda, isn’t it?” I shudder involuntarily.

Justin just throws his arms around me and eyes the pie on the nightstand. “Should we wrap up the pie?”

“You want to eat that now that your fingers and my dick have been in it?”

“Why not?” He asks simply. 

I grin. “You are showing me such a twisted side of yourself, Taylor!” I throw the saran wrap that had been removed from the pie back over it and wrap my arms around him. “And I kind of like it.” I add. 

He grins and snuggles up to me as thunder rumbles above us. “Brian?”

“Yeah?” I answer, kissing the top of his head, which is still a little damp from sweat, despite the cold.

He looks up into my eyes, smiling slightly. “Brian, I love you.” He states emphatically.

Lord. I lean in and kiss his cheek, inhaling his scent and I find myself smiling back. I don’t say anything for a little while. Then: “Yeah, well. Me too,” I suddenly hear myself mutter. He beams at me and God – GOD help me: my heart melts a little. 

Christ, I’m becoming as much of a sap as Justin. I’m Brian Fucking Kinney, for fuck’s sake. I’m not supposed to feel shit. It’s all due to the fucking day we’ve had, I think to myself. That’s all. 

That’s all. Really. 

That’s all.

I mean it.

I do. Dammit.


	19. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

 

I open my eyes to a now VERY familiar sight. Wanna guess? 

Yep: Justin staring at me. 

Staring at my mouth to be exact, I note. When he suddenly looks down, I realize he’s sketching me; he’s so intent on his task that he apparently didn’t notice my eyes blinking open. I watch his hand move carefully over the page, putting in some minute detail, it would seem. He huffs a little and shakes his hand as it cramps.

“G’morning, lunatic…” I murmur as I reach over for his hand to begin massaging the tension away.

Justin startles and his blue eyes snap up to meet mine. “Fuck! I didn’t know you were awake! Sorry- I was just sketching.”

“Mmm?” 

“I was doing your lips,” he smiles a little sheepishly, his features relaxing a little as I gently rub the tightness from his palm. 

Doing my lips. Hm. There are a lot of responses I could come up with to that, but fuck. I just woke up. “Whatever, Sunshine.” Speaking of sunshine- or lack thereof- it’s now that I notice the rain is still pounding the roof. The storm has apparently not let up and I furrow my brow. This is getting a little scary, to be honest… I don’t think I’ve seen a storm like this last this long, and with such sustained fury. It’s dark out, but only because of the thick clouds. There’s at least some measure of dim light since it’s morning- but not quite enough to draw, I think to myself; not without straining your eyes. But I don’t say anything about that-- there’s something mother-hennishness about it, and I refuse to go there. I notice that his hand has relaxed fully and I kiss it before I place it on my shoulder. He smiles tenderly at me. Gawd. I glance over at the battery-run clock radio we’d put back on the nightstand late last night after we were pretty sure Mikey had gone to sleep. 7:12. Christ. “Justin, how long have you been up, for fuck’s sake? It’s only a little after 7.” 

“I’ve been up since around 6. There was this extra loud crack of thunder and it startled me awake. It sucked too, because I was having one of my ‘good’ prom dreams.” Justin’s eyes get a far away look before he refocuses on me with a slight grin, leaning down for a quick kiss.

I smile inadvertently, knowing of course what he’s talking about. During our stay in the hospital after that bitch Rita Stockwell ran us off the road, Justin had started having both dreams and nightmares. The good dreams – well, they made him very happy. Giddily happy, it would seem. They were of the prom. The dance, the kiss at the Jeep… the stuff that happened before that Royal Dipshit Hobbs ruined it. He remembered; the good dreams showed that he finally remembered his prom. 

And. And, the nightmares were horrible. The nightmares apparently were a mess of images of me bleeding all over that fucking Skylark and untrue fantasies of the paramedics never coming; and then Hobbs’ hate-filled eyes just before the bat connected with Justin’s skull. The nightmares plagued Justin—when he finally told me about them during that meltdown episode at the loft, I felt awful for him. Fortunately and unfortunately, both the dreams AND the nightmares showed that he finally remembered ALL of what happened that night. Well, till the bat, of course. As for the nightmares: for awhile, he was having them nearly every night, and I found myself holding and soothing a sweating, wild-eyed Justin at 3:00 in the morning almost as frequently as after the bashing. 

Luckily, lately, I’ve noticed that he hasn’t been waking up with a scream; he’s been waking up with a smile and a stiffie. It would seem that the nightmares have gone away. Hopefully forever.

“Brian?” Justin’s voice jars me back to where I am.

Huh? I look at him and raise an eyebrow. 

“Where’d you go?” He asks. “What are you thinking about?”

‘What are you thinking about?’--Ah. The dreaded question. I actively HATE that question. As I’ve said before, I hate that question because often, I’m thinking of him. In the context of ME. In the context of US. And I just HATE that. As I usually do when he asks that, I shoot him a warning glare, silently telling him to keep such questions to himself. 

He ignores my pointed look. “Well?” He persists, expectantly.

“…”

“Brian, come on. You were a million miles away there for a moment.” Thunder rumbles overhead. 

He’s looking at me intensely. I realize he’s not going to quit pushing so I sigh and relent. “Fine. I was just thinking about you remembering your prom night; what had to happen in order to trigger your memories. And how your nightmares after that car wreck were nearly as bad as after the bashing. Sometimes worse, actually.” There, you fucker. Happy now? “How you…” Oh my God. My voice just hitched. And oh my God- do I have tears in the corners my eyes? No. No way. I shut the fuck up. The FUCK up.

I glance over. Justin’s look is one that I’ve seen on his face too many times now. But at this moment, it suddenly reminds me of a look I saw in Lindsay’s eyes one night for some reason… one night when I woke up with a newborn baby Gus wriggling slightly on my chest. I’d just awakened on the munchers’ couch- I’d been exhausted and had fallen asleep with my beautiful son asleep on my body. When I’d awoke, I had looked down at him and kissed him on the forehead, amazed that he was someone I helped create- and then I glanced over when I saw a slight movement to my left. 

And there was Lindsay, who had this look; this LOOK- it was of complete, unadulterated love. It was unnerving, to be honest. I’m sure the look was for Gus, despite the puzzling fact that she was looking decidedly at me. But right now, for Justin, I can’t find anything to attribute the look to. 

“Brian… Oh, Brian…” he mutters. I suddenly notice that his eyes are filled with tears. Gawd. I fucking hate this shit.

“Don’t get all lesbionic on me, Justin.” I say, pleased to find that my voice is steady and my eyes are now dry.

He smiles weakly. “Brian.” 

Alright, now what?

“Brian… I know how much pain you’ve gone through because of me. The bashing. Me making the stupidest, most ass-backward, most incredibly blind mistake of my life, leaving to go to Ethan. Which, by the way, was something I knew even at the time was temporary; Brian, you’ve had my heart from the first moment I saw you. But I’ve caused you so much anguish. There’s so much more I could list off, Brian, on what I’ve done to you. I mean, then there’s after the accident with Rita fucking Stockwell. Me waking up almost every night with nightmares of you near death in the car; Hobbs’ attack… You waking up to me screaming your name, to protect me. Christ. Brian. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Christ. I’m not making any sense.” He’s crying softly.

Aw, fucking shit. How did this all come about anyway? I take a moment to ground myself. I focus on the sounds of the storm. “Justin.”

He grabs a tissue from the nightstand and looks at me, teary-eyed. His nose is red and his lips are trembling, despite the fact that he’s very obviously trying to control himself.

“Justin, listen.” Fuck. What do I say? Did I say ‘fuck’ yet? “Yes. You have caused me… pain… mostly when you had no control over the situation- so you have to shut up about those things- quit apologizing about them, I mean. The pain I felt when you were in that coma… the pain I felt when you would wake up screaming and there was nothing I could do to rid you of the nightmares… both after the bashing and after the car wreck… it wrenched…” It wrenched the heart right out of my chest, I think silently to myself. “… It was hard. But sorry is bullshit, Justin. You didn’t ‘do’ those things to me. Those things HAPPENED to you.”

But then there’s Ethan, I think to myself. That was a very different pain. One I don’t want to get into, thank you very much. 

“But then there’s Ethan,” he whispers, echoing my thoughts. Asshole mindreader. Christ. “Can you ever forgive me for Ethan?” He sounds so meek and his eyes are so sad, so full of regret, and – Christ – full of love; I just stare at him a few moments. “Brian?” He finally says quietly, a slight note of panic in his voice. As though he’s thinking I might simply get up, pack, and leave.

I blink. Am I ready to talk about this shit? “Justin,” I pause. “Justin. That did… bother me… I mean: I thought you got me- were ‘onto me’ as you say. And I thought you understood that I believe that actions speak louder than words. And that my actions were showing you how I felt. I mean, I know I was an asshole sometimes, but I really believed you understood what was going on. But quite apparently, you really wanted the words. I’m in advertising. Words mean shit to me. Plus, in my experience, hearing my mother say ‘I love you’ was so laughable, I don’t even want to get into it. Countless times, my dad would be beating the life out of me- sometimes almost literally- and she’d just avert her eyes or leave the room—she’d never intervene to protect me. She’s said how she took the brunt of Jack’s rage in order to save me from a beating. I never once witnessed that. It was always the other way around. Same with Claire. I was the ‘designated whipping boy’ and… Well, and as I said, I nearly died several times because of that. So, the few times when she told me she loved me, it made me sick. Anyway, I don’t know why I’m going down this road, but: yeah. You leaving for Ethan was hard to take. But there weren’t any locks on the doors. It was your decision to make, and I certainly wasn’t going to stop you. Or freeze you out after you left, as Mikey so desperately wanted to do. You had to do what you had to do. It’s okay. I survived. I was okay.” I think a moment. “I obviously wasn’t giving you what you needed. I wasn’t free of blame for how you were feeling. I wasn’t giving you what you needed OR wanted. Who knows- that may still be true.”

“It isn’t true, Brian. It isn’t at all. You do. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. You’re still an asshole, but there are subtle changes I’ve noticed in you since we’ve been back together.” He sniffles. “But do you forgive me?” He adds.

God. This trip is going to be the end of me, you know that? “Of course. As I just said, it was your decision to make. I… I cared enough for you to not keep you from doing what you felt you needed to do.”

“Brian, that isn’t really an answer. I guess I’m asking if you trust me. Trust me now. Not to do something like that again. Not to hurt you again.”

That gives me pause and I look over at him briefly. He looks miserable. I flash back to the Rage party, to the image of him and the fiddler looking at me. He looked pretty miserable then, too. And then I think to the night I found him sitting alone at Woody’s, nursing a drink. Apparently the same night he’d seen Ian and his number one fan at the concert. I could feel the sadness and disillusionment emanating from him that night, and I felt sorry for him. Genuinely sorry. I’d never stopped caring for him- I’d truly hoped he’d find what it was he wanted. 

I just can’t believe that what he wanted actually turned out to be me. “I just can’t believe that what you truly want is me.” Did I just say that out loud? Fuck me! I have diarrhea of the mouth all of a sudden!! NEVER, ever would I think to say something like that out loud!

Justin suddenly sobs and pulls himself up next to me, his face inches from mine. I don’t look at him. The fucker. Making me say shit I normally would never say in a million years. “Brian!” He chokes. “You dimwitted ass! You don’t understand! You’re ALL I want! Forever! That whole thing with Ethan was just… I don’t know… an experiment or something! You have to realize, I never, EVER loved him the way I did you! DO you! I love you so much, I ache sometimes. If I ever lost you, I’d wither away and die! Even when I was with him, I couldn’t pull myself away from you. With your fucking nephew, with the Carnivale, and of course, at the diner- you must know that I could have easily gotten another job at another diner where I wouldn’t have to deal with you, your friends… with Michael.” Shit. 

He pauses to take a shaky breath. “But no. I had to still be near you. I was in denial then- but I know now that it was because I was still so deeply in love with you, I couldn’t bear to not see you. You don’t know how many times I dreamed of you at night and pissed Ethan off by calling your name. How many times I’d wake up from a nightmare and see Ethan snoring next to me, oblivious, and wish you were there to hold and soothe me. How many times, when he would touch me, I’d shudder because it wasn’t you. Because it wasn’t your touch….” His voice trails off and he wipes his bloodshot eyes. “Brian. It’s always been you. It always will be you. And you have to believe that. And I’ll never leave you. I AM ‘onto’ you now. I don’t think I was ever really not- I just got sidetracked. But you amaze me. You always have. And I’ll never lose sight of that. You’re beautiful, remember? Inside. And out. I think your fucking family has you believing that you’re unlovable. Brian, you are anything BUT unlovable. You have so many people who love you. And at least two, if not a million more, who are IN love with you. The primary two of whom are with you in this cabin," he smiles slightly. "The one who loves you and is in love with you the most is with you in this bed. And that’s never going to go away. Never, Brian. You have to trust that that is the truth. You have to trust ME.” With that, he stops and just watches for my reaction as the tears roll down his cheeks. 

What a drama princess. I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. It’s now that I notice my eyes aren’t as dry as I’d like them to be. “Justin. I trust you, okay? I just want you to feel that you can do whatever it is that makes you happy. And if that means you find someone else who makes you feel that way, then I won’t stand in your way if you need to leave. I want you to be happy.”

“Christ, Brian!” I’m a little taken aback by the anger in his voice. “Are you not hearing me? There IS no one else who makes me happy! There’s no one except YOU, for fuck’s sake!”

I look at him and he’s actually shaking. The rage in his eyes is a little intimidating and so I turn away. While I find it hard to believe what he’s saying, I nod mutely.

“Say it! Say that you believe what I’m telling you!”

“God, you are such a bossy bottom.” I mutter.

“Brian! I mean it! Say it!”

I sigh. “Justin, are you on some warped mission to try to make me love myself or some such shit? This whole trip you’ve been harping on me about how beautiful I am and how you love me and only me. I feel like I’m on some kind of self-help retreat!”

“Cut the bullshit, Brian fucking Kinney. I’m onto you. You’re deflecting, avoiding having to say it. But it’s true, and you need to realize that you ARE beautiful, and that I DO love you and only you, you fucking piece of shit!” He’s practically seething now. “You are so fucking frustrating, Brian! My God!”

I sit quietly a moment, thinking. Thinking how, maybe… just MAYBE, he does love me and only me. Why is a mystery. The whole me 'being beautiful' thing I toss out the window. But maybe he’s really sure about this. “Okay.” I say simply.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I believe you.” I admit quietly, hoping my words aren’t drowned out by the sudden clap of thunder that rolls overhead so I don’t have to say them again.

“And?”

My God. “And, it seems you’re kind of ‘onto me’ again, which I hope… Which I hope doesn’t…” I trail off. ‘Doesn’t end,’ I think to myself.

“Brian, I’m not going anywhere. I’m onto you. Forever.” Justin interrupts, his voice more quiet this time. He’s sobbing a little.

I glance at him and sigh. “Jesus, Justin. This is SO jacked up.” I reach my arm around him and pull him close. He resists at first, but gives in and leans against me, a shudder wracking his frame as he buries his head in the crook of my neck. I feel his tears on my skin and I give him a squeeze. How the hell did things get so fucked up before 8:00 in the goddamned morning? But stuff between Justin and me is never easy. That much I’ve learned. In spades. “Justin?” He doesn’t move. “Justin, listen. Justin, look at me.” He lifts his head and I look at his face. It’s splotchy and wet and his eyes are all puffy. He stares searchingly into my eyes, like he’s trying to find something there. I just look back, wondering if he’ll find what he’s looking for. I suddenly feel a little tense for some reason.

His eyes soften and I find myself relaxing. I guess he found it. “Forever, Brian.” Justin repeats.

I sigh. “Justin,” I say quietly. “Listen. I guess I kind of knew it wouldn’t last. You and Ethan, I mean. I don’t know how, but I sort of knew- well, no; I felt- you’d come back. After you left, there was still something in the way you’d look at me- sometimes angrily, sometimes hungrily, sometimes sadly, sometimes with fucking love, or what seemed to me to be love- I’m not very experienced in what that looks like, to be honest… anyway, I dunno… I guess the point is that every time I caught you looking at me, there was always some kind of emotion there. I could see that, on whatever level, you still cared—“

“—No, I still loved you.” He interjects.

“Justin, please let me get this shit out.” He shuts up. I take a deep breath. “Anyway, I also noticed that you didn’t look at Ethan like that. You’d get goofy-eyed at him, but it was always… I don’t know. It seemed somehow that it wasn’t Ethan that made you look like that. It was the words he was saying. The words I wouldn’t say.” 

He smiles, no longer crying. “Good God. Brian- Brian, you DO get it.” He says quietly, sniffling slightly. “For once,” he adds. Fucker.

I pause. “And probably never will say, Justin.” I add cautiously.

But his smile never wavers. “You don’t have to, Brian. I’m well-versed in Kinney-speak. And you know, most of it is actually Kinney-nonspeak. But it still comes through, loud and clear.”

I sigh expansively and shift my gaze away from Justin to look out the window. What the fuck am I doing? Thunder growls in the background and the wind whistles through the eaves. I blink and marvel at how this trip has brought out the weirdness in the both of us. I never- EVER- expected to voice all these things to Justin. Hell, to ANYone. Never.

But. But: there it is. Voiced. And all before 8AM on a Monday morning in Maine. In the middle of the storm of the century. 

Voiced.

Fuck ME. Maine. This place. The place Justin says is part of his soul. The place where I’ve bared more of my soul than I ever have before. 

Maine. A place that’s maybe part of my soul now, too. 

If I have one, that is.

Christ.


	20. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN 

 

We've been up for a little while, now. It's close to noon. And I've been freaking out, to be honest. I said too much this morning. Revealed too much. 

Too goddamned much.

But I clamp it down, suck it up and.

And.

And, well, I quietly wander into the living room. Fuck it. 

Rain is smattering against the windows. 

"Brian?" Justin says cautiously, walking in behind me.

Michael is on the couch with a comic book and looks up. "Hey, guys." He mutters.

Justin doesn't seem to hear him and comes up to me. "Brian?" He says again. 

I glance at him, not really liking the lilt to his voice. It sounds ominously shmaltzy and my guard goes up full force. "What?" I'm decidedly wary. "And keep in mind, Justin, if you keep up this lezzy love talk, you are about to become a very bad smell in the attic!" I add threateningly. I refuse to turn into a dickless fag, dammit. 

He just gazes at me, a small smile on his face, his expression never wavering. "I just know that conversation we had in the bedroom was hard for you. And I really appreciate you not totally flipping out on me." He pauses. "I do." He whispers, just barely audible over the rain and thunder.

I look at him intently. "Justin, don't ever say 'I do' to me again. I'll throw up. I swear it." 

He swats me. "Sorry," he smirks. I feel a small inadvertent smile on my face; I'm secretly rather pleased that this annoying, suddenly-touchy-feely, persistent blond twink is 'onto' me. There was a time that he'd have been hurt by what I just said. But he knows now; it's just me being... well, me. He takes it all in stride. And I take all his lovey-dovey crap in stride. Well, I take it better than I did before.

"Guys?" 

I'd forgotten Mikey was in the room. I look over at him, then glance out the window. "Michael, I don't think Ben'll make it today." 

"But he's coming in through Boston. He could still make it."

There's a sudden loud knock at the back door. A VERY loud knock. An angry knock.

"Jesus Christ, now what?" I mutter, wondering who the fuck it would be- no way is it Ben yet. I yank open the door and there's a gasp from Justin behind me. 

"I KNEW it! I fucking KNEW it!" Craig Taylor screams. He rushes in towards me and I notice he's quickly pulling back his fist; I duck before he actually throws the punch and he effectively- or ineffectively, I suppose- hits air, stumbling over from the force of his misguided blow. 

"DAD!!! STOP IT!"

"MR. TAYLOR!" Mikey.

I find myself pulled away from behind. Fucking shit! "Let me go! Let me at him!" That's my voice. What am I saying for Chrissakes? I sound like I'm reciting a line out of a bad movie. Still, I find myself breaking free of Michael and I run over and push Craig Taylor down as he rushes me. 

He comes up swinging. "You asshole! You fucking corrupted my son!! And I can't believe you're up here in Maine! At our family house--"

"Dad! Shut up! Mom knew he was coming up here with me! Dad!"

"Brian! Stop it!" Mikey. I pull back and stop short of pummeling the shitheel into the ground. I mean, it IS Justin's father, after all. 

"Craig, get out of here." I hiss instead. I don't bother with being polite by calling him 'Mr. Taylor.' 

His face becomes even more enraged. "You're fucking trash. I hate your fucking guts. You are so dead, Kinney!" He makes a move towards me.

Christ. I shove Justin behind me to protect him, reach up and grab Craig's fist as it comes at me and I swing him around, locking his arm behind him. "Leave us the FUCK alone, Craig." I growl. 

"This is MY house, asshole!" Craig grinds out. "You child molester! You fucking creep!" I notice that he's actually snarling. I push him away from me.

"Dad. Leave him alone! Leave. Please. Don't do this. Dad, if you have ANY feelings for me at all... EVER had any... Please just go! Mom knew Brian came up. She was fine with it." Justin pleads. 

"Yeah, well, that cunt never had your best interest at heart!" He spits out. "Letting you move in with this pervert! Letting him stay at our family's vacation home in Maine! Letting you move to fucking New York with him!"

I nearly take a swing at him for calling Jennifer a 'cunt' like that, while in the back of my mind I vaguely wonder how he knows all this stuff- he's been out of Justin's life for months upon months now. Although I do recall Justin mentioning that he and Jennifer were trying to be civil- friends even- for Molly's sake. Who knows? It may just have come up in a normal conversation.

"'Letting' me?" Justin says after a moment, his voice edgy. "I'm almost fucking 20 years old! She doesn't 'let' me do anything! And don't you fucking call Mom a 'cunt' you dick!"

"Nice job, Craig. You called the mother of your children a cunt. To one of your children, no less."

He glares at me. 

Justin sighs deeply, his shoulders suddenly sagging. "Dad. What are you fucking doing here, anyway?"

"Jen- er, your mother told me you came up here. And I knew you wouldn't come alone. Not when you have this pervert boyfriend who's nearly twice your age." I wince a little at that. "I just can't believe you brought him up here, Justin. Defiling this home!"

I snort. "Defiling? God, you are so stuck in the dark ages, Craig."

He sneers at me and then looks back at Justin. "Justin, you cannot bring your disgusting lifestyle into my parents' home! It's sick! It's perverse! It's wrong!"

Justin takes a shuddery breath and rubs his hand over his face. "Dad, it's me. This is my life. And whether you like it or not, I love Brian. And he's NOT a pervert." I cock an eyebrow; THAT point is actually arguable, I think to myself. "He's my partner, Dad. It's love. Like what you and Mom had, until you fucked it up." Craig's eyes flash. "He's here to stay," he adds with note of finality. 

"Mr. Taylor, it's best if you go." Mikey says, having watched this entire drama from near the refridgerator. He sounds so... adult or something. I'm impressed.

"Who the fuck are you?" Craig hisses in Michael's direction.

"That's Michael. He's Brian's best friend." Justin replies.

"Nice." He scoffs. "You like threesomes now, Justin?"

Christ. "He's a FRIEND." I interject. "And you REALLY need to leave, Craig." How many times will we have to say that before he actually gets a clue and goes?

"You can't tell me to get out of my own house!"

"We can ask you to please leave, Dad. Please." Justin's always the diplomat.

"Yeah. Or think of this: there are three of us and only one of you. You do the math." I, on the other hand, am never the diplomat.

He looks a little uncertainly from me to Justin to Michael, then back to me. "I hate you, Brian Kinney. You're a perverted fuck, you know that?" Uh huh. I shrug. I've been called worse. "And YOU, Justin!" Uh oh. Here it comes. "You are no longer my son. You are nothing to me. You have desecrated this house. Your GRANDPARENTS' home, Justin. With your disgusting lifestyle. With your asshole 'boyfriend'. With your mere presence. You sicken me. You truly sicken me." His voice has become quiet, but the rage is clearly boiling right there at the surface.

Justin looks crestfallen; despite all that's happened between him and his Dad, I can see how much Craig's words cut to the bone. I look over at him, feeling a dull ache in my stomach, knowing exactly how he feels; suddenly I realize that Craig has taken advantage of my distraction and has leapt across the space between us; he sucker punches me squarely in the gut. Taken completely off guard, I double-over in pain, feeling a hard kick on my back which sends me sprawling on the floor.

"Brian!" I hear Justin and Mikey scream and I vaguely notice a flurry of legs around my head as they both lunge at Craig. I feel several swift kicks to my chest and stomach before Craig is effectively restrained. I'm curled into a tight ball, wincing on the floor, unable to move beyond trying my best to breathe. 'What is it with this guy and my ribs?' A voice in the back of my mind is asking through the haze of pain.

"Brian!" Justin yells again, leaving Michael to hold back the crazed lunatic; I vaguely wonder if Mikey's up to the job. "Brian!" He says crouching over me; I can barely see his face as I'm squinting in agony. But I notice he looks completely panicked and scared. "Brian, are you okay? My God, Brian!" He turns to his father. "I can't believe you did this! I can't believe you! You fucking asshole! Christ, have you no self-control? No decency?"

I hear Craig snort. "You're one to talk of decency? I don't think so." He mutters.

Justin ignores him. "GET OUT! NOW!"

"Jus... Justin..." I mutter. Quite frankly, I'm fed up with this drama. "Justin. Help me up." Fuck. My voice sounds so weak.

He turns his attention back to me. "Can you get up, Bri? Are you sure?"

I have to, I think to myself. To show that even though his father fights dirty, he hasn't won. I hiss as I move, uncurling myself from the fetal position I've found myself in. All I want to do is stay balled up as tightly as I can but I have to get up. I have to. I hear myself grunting in pain as I raise myself, but I can't help it. Justin supports me tenderly and I cut my eyes over to Craig to make sure he isn't going to jump me again. Mikey looks at me scared, but he has Craig in a firm grip. Besides, Craig is motionless, watching me, a look of mild surprise on his face. It's like he's coming to his senses a little. I reach a hand up to my mouth and find that there's blood on my fingers when I take them away.

"Christ!" I sputter. I stand up fully and take a deep shuddering breath trying to ignore the unbelievable pain wracking my body. Justin gently wraps his arms around me, clinging somewhat desperately, albeit softly because of my damaged ribs. "This isn't happening..." he mutters. "This can't be happening." I look at him, trying to stand as straight as possible. "Bri?" He says to me quietly. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

I just shake my head. Although, the wrenching pain in my gut makes me wonder. And my already sore right arm took some of the brunt of that last kick. This is worse than the last time Craig tried to beat the living shit out of me, I think to myself. Both times, he caught me by total surprise. The coward. 

"Mr. Taylor..." Michael whispers over the storm.

The senior Taylor huffs, his eyes filling with rage again. "Get your fag hands off of me!" He yells at Mikey, squirming suddenly. I move to help him and find myself nearly buckling over with soul-shattering agony. Desperate, I reach out for the counter to hold myself up.

Justin rushes over to help Michael; Craig abruptly stops struggling and spits at him. Jesus Christ. He fucking just spit at him! Justin stands there a little stunned, not expecting that. I want to go punch the motherfucker but realize as soon as I take a step that the pain is too great for me to even try. I feel like I might pass out from it, but I will not give that asshole the pleasure. 

Justin squares his shoulders, shakes his head and calmly walks over to the back door. "You sick fuck. I never want to see you again. Hear from you again. Hear OF you again. You're nothing to me, like I'm nothing to you. I will thank you for the happy childhood. But fuck you for rejecting me totally once you learned I was queer. And damn you to Hell for hurting Brian- to HELL. You're a psychotic, homophobic, genuinely mean and disturbed man, Da-- Craig. This is it, Craig." He glances over to the counter by the sink and spies a knife. He picks it up. Michael gasps. I suddenly do not like the direction this is heading.

"Justin--" I say, reaching out to stop him before he does something he'll regret. But I can't move away from the counter or I'll collapse. Justin's eyes never leave his father's. I glance at Craig, who's face is now frozen in fear as he stares at the knife in Justin's grip. I hold my breath.

"Craig, you're a lucky man. You're lucky that every time you jumped Brian, you caught him off-guard-- or he'd have turned you into a mere stain on the ground. You're lucky that you ever knew Mom-- she's a remarkable woman and I'm glad she finally came to her senses about you. You're lucky that you had a son who kept trying to give you chances to overcome your violent homophobic views-- but who has also gladly given up on you, and no longer wants you anywhere near him, his lover, his friends or his family." He pauses. Everyone but Justin is staring at the knife in his hand. Justin is still glaring cooly at his father. 

This whole time, his voice hasn't been raised at all- it's been ominous, threatening and a little frightening. I continue to hold my breath, scared shitless of what he's going to do. Normally, I can read Justin like a book. But this is a pretty extraordinary situation and fuck me if I'm as scared right now as Craig is. 

Justin takes a breath and continues; he draws out the words slowly. "And you're lucky I don't take this steak knife and kill you right now- for what you've done to me, to Mom, to Molly- and especially for what you've done to Brian." My shoulders slump slightly and I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize that he's not going to do anything drastic. 

Craig sags visibly in Michael's grip, the relief evident in his face. Justin opens the back door. "Get out." Craig looks at his estranged son, who is standing at the door as the storm blows in on him. Justin's eyes are steely and cold and his jaw is set. "Get out!" He shouts, raising the knife up in a threatening manner.

"Christ!" Craig shouts, his voice full of fear. Mikey releases him and Craig runs past Justin into the rain. "You're a madman!" He yells once he's a safe distance from the house. Justin grimaces and slams the door. A few shards of glass fall and shatter on the kitchen floor, jarred loose from the slam.

Within a split second, Justin drops the knife with a clatter and is at my side. "Brian. Brian..." Mikey is right next to him, also saying my name.

I just stare at Justin; the pain is still throbbing in my bones but I try to push it away for the moment. "Bad ass Justin, eh?" I smirk. "That was quite a performance."

He gets a small grin on his face, although I notice that his eyes are full of sadness about what happened with his father and concern for me. "Yeah. I took some drama in high school. Although, I meant every word I said to him." He looks down with a dismal expression on his face before raising his eyes to meet mine. "But the knife- you know I wasn't going to do anything... it's just- he was scaring me. He tried to kill you. What if he'd seen that knife before jumping you?" His voice is scared, unhappy, worried. A sudden sharp twinge in my side makes me wince, the pain forcing me to betray how I'm really feeling to both Justin and Michael. "Christ! Brian, we have to call 911!" Justin sounds completely panicked.

"No! No 911! Justin, look at the weather. The emergency crews are obviously going to be pretty tied up." Fuck. I lean harder against the counter and try to suppress a gasp as the pain nearly overwhelms me. I can't fight it anymore and I find that I'm folding in on myself as the adrenaline that had been holding me up previously dissipates into nothing. 

"Brian!" Mikey. Funny, but he sounds completely panicked too. Somehow, I can't muster the strength to reassure either of them.

"No 911..." I breathe. "Do you hear me?"

"No 911. I hear you. Come on... come with me..." Justin says; I see him motion to Mikey to help. In the background, I hear Craig's SUV screech out of the driveway as he makes his dramatic exit. Good riddance. 

Michael and Justin both try to take an arm, but I hiss when Mikey touches my right wrist. "Mikey! Fuck- don't. That arm is.... sore." That isn't the half of it, to be honest. It's killing me. God, please don't let it be broken again, I find myself thinking- practically praying. Michael nods and puts his arm gently around my waist instead. He and Justin lead me to the bedroom, laying me on my back on the bed. Michael leaves to bring some candles, since even though it's daylight, it's still pretty dim in here. Fucking stupid storm.

Justin carefully removes my shirt and inhales a sharp breath. "Jesus, Brian!" He says, looking at my torso. "Brian!" He chokes out. "Oh, God..."


	21. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

 

Justin carefully removes my shirt and inhales a sharp breath. "Jesus, Brian!" He says, looking at my torso. "Brian!" He chokes out. "Oh, God..."

I reluctantly look down and try to suppress my reaction because Justin is right here watching- there's already a series of very dark, angry and rather enormous bruises spreading across my chest and abdomen. Good lord. I have to admit, it does look a little- or rather, a LOT- wrong.

"Brian, you may have internal injuries..."

I snort which causes me to suddenly wince at the pain- it kills me to fucking breathe. "You think?" I manage to say sarcastically, my voice sounding gravelly as I try not to let on how much it hurts.

He narrows his eyes at me. "You know what I mean. I think he really hurt you, Brian. This scares me."

"Well, there's really nothing we can do about it." I groan inwardly, hoping that there really isn't a ruptured something inside me. The pain is searing.

Mikey comes in with the candles and a wet washcloth. He sits next to me on the opposite side of the bed from Justin and gasps upon witnessing the wounds on my body. "Christ, Brian. Jesus Christ." He mutters, staring in horror at the darkening colors.

Mikey finally takes his eyes off my mutilated body and dabs the cloth on my bloody face. They both look closely at my lips. What the fuck? "Good." Justin says. "The blood is from a cut on your mouth."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. 'Good'. Thanks a lot, Sunshine."

"No, I mean- you could have coughed up some blood. It's just from a split lip."

Gross. "Great. I feel so lucky." I smirk. 

They both look at me sympathetically. And I hate that. "Brian," Justin mumbles. "Brian, I am so sorry for what my Da- for what fucking Craig did to you. I really am."

"It's not your fault." 

"Well, if you hadn't been looking at me after he said all that shit to me, he wouldn't have surprised you like that. Otherwise, you would have easily fended him off."

I guffaw and then clench. Christ! "Justin, you cannot take responsibility for this, for fuck's sake!" I gasp, trying to recover my regular breathing pattern. "Justin? I mean it!" I say quietly. It's all I can manage to say at this moment. Having had bruised, cracked and broken ribs before - I self diagnose that these are broken. Fuck it.

Then I notice that Michael is looking at me oddly again. Justin seems to notice it too. While I normally don't call Michael on such stupid shit, I find myself asking, "Mikey, why are you looking at me like that? Am I really that God-awful to look at?" Actually, I probably am, come to think of it.

Justin rolls his eyes for some reason. Michael seems to blush and he shrugs. "No, Brian. Of course not! I'm just worried about you," he says quietly.

I soften. "Don't, okay? Really. But I think I need to soak in some hot water. I fucking hurt. And I'm pretty sure I have some broken ribs." I admit. Justin puts his hand on my cheek and looks so worried, I wish I could stand up and do a fucking jig to ease his mind. Mikey rubs his hand in circles on my shoulder, a look of concern on his face as well. 

"If they're broken, we better get you to a doctor," Mikey says. 

"There's nothing a doctor can do, Michael. There's no cast for ribs."

I glance at the both of them and the fear in their faces is too much. "Look, you two. You know how I feel about pity parties. I'm fine. Will be fine, anyway. So knock your worrying down a few notches or you'll piss me off. Plus, you'll get wrinkles."

They both get small grins on their faces. Thank God. I hate it when people feel sorry for me. Really, really hate it. "I'll run the water." Mikey says, getting up to leave me and Justin alone. 

Justin gets up and goes into the bathroom just off our bedroom, coming back with a first-aid kit. "Brian, at the first sign that this is anything other than broken ribs and a sprained arm, we're calling an ambulance. Or I'll drive you to the hospital my fucking self if an ambulance doesn't get here within 10 minutes." 

"I think 10 minutes would be asking a bit much in this weather, Justin. Plus, the hospital's all the way over in Bar Harbor. You know that."

"I don't care. If it's not here in 10, I'm taking you myself." 

"Whatever, Sunshine. It's a moot point anyway. I'm not going to any hospital."

He narrows his eyes at me but says nothing. He hands me a couple of pills and a glass of water, then takes out an Ace bandage and begins to wrap my right wrist. "Christ, I can't believe he kicked you in the wrist, Brian- and the one that you shattered in that fucking wreck," he sighs. Then he turns his attention to the cut on my face, applying what I assume to be Neosporin to the wound. Then he sits back, looks at me and reaches over to gently touch the deep purple splotch that's spread out over my ribs. "Christ. Brian," he mutters, looking at the gross discoloration. 

I grimace and reach for his hand to hold it against my heart- there's no bruise there and I'm finding even the most feather-light touch is like fire where I'm hurt. I also find myself pulling the blanket over me, not wanting him to see me like this. He's seen me totally broken and battered too many times since he's met me. Fuck, twice in just the last 3 months or so. I cringe as even the passing of the blanket over the raw bruises is painful.

He smiles warmly at me and lifts the blanket off me, lowering it again. "Brian, I don't care about any fucking bruise, no matter how horrifyingly intense it is. I just care about you. You should know that by now, you moron. And it's obvious the blanket is hurting you, so quit pulling it over your body."

I sigh. Amazingly, the once-despised cold temperature in the cabin feels almost soothing to me now on my torso- I still feel chilled where there are no wounds, of course. But, unfortunately, there aren't many places like that on my upper body. Most of my skin feels overheated from the blood that's pooling at the surface.

"So," I manage through my sometimes vain attempts to breathe without nearly crying out. "Now what? I'm obviously out of commission for awhile. Again. And I don't think I'll be able to travel for several days. We're stuck here. With a storm that is starting to seem apocalyptic in nature." I glance out the windows. "And Michael." I add. 

He grins at that. "What happens now is that we wait, and Michael and I nurse you back to health. Or we go the hospital if things get worse."

"No hospitals." I state emphatically.

"No hospitals are in the plan, Brian. But I'm going to keep an eye on you."

"Fine, Mom." I say, noticing how hoarse I sound. "Fuck, and no sex it would appear." Then I smirk. "Don't you fucking hook up with Mikey just because I'm out of the game for a little while, Sunshine."

Justin gets a stricken look and nearly gags. "Bri-- Brian, how could you even think such a thing, let alone voice it? Oh, my God, I think I'm gonna be sick."

I snort. "Christ, what a drama princess. It was just a joke."

"Brian, that was the most disgusting thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth. And I've heard some pretty nasty shit from you."

I find myself laughing and it hurts like hell. 

"I mean it, Brian. Never mention anything like that again!"

I decide to give a little payback for the 'I told Daphne I'd seen the face of God. And his name was Brian Kinney' story of the other night. "You know? I gave him the opportunity once. To finish off that handjob from when we were 14." I snicker.

Justin gets another stricken look on his face and inhales sharply. Then his brow furrows. "Brian, that's gross! Oh, my God! How could you do that?" 

"He turned me down, Justin." 

He then gets a puzzled expression. "He did?"

"Well, I came on a little strong. On purpose. To scare him a little. I thought maybe if he could say to himself that he'd had the opportunity and HE'D been the one to say no, he'd get over me. It worked, too."

Justin smirks at me. "No, it didn't, Brian. Despite the Professor, he's still got it bad for you. Bad. It drives Debbie crazy."

Now I'm the one who gets the puzzled expression. "What? What are you talking about?" Justin just looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Then why hasn't Deb been acting like a mother lion protecting her cub around me? I assumed it was because he now has the Professor."

"Because she realizes that you're oblivious to it now. That you don't think Michael still has a thing for you. In her eyes, you haven't been pushing him away, then giving him just a small taste of what he wants so he'll stick around. You've been focused on too much other shit lately. Anyway, I heard her ream Michael out in the diner just the other day, after he'd been going on and on about you in front of Ben." My mouth drops open. "Don't look so shocked, Brian! Just accept it. And just keep being the way you have been around him. He's doing alright. And he does love Ben. He really does. It's just Always You. I told you that he was still in love with you last night, Brian- I don't know why you're so surprised."

"Justin, you were spouting off a lot of shit last night. And while you got 1500 on your SAT's, that doesn't mean you're right about everything. Particularly about Mikey." This whole thing is ridiculous and I refuse to believe it. I shift and inadvertently find myself flinching in pain.

"Brian, you just don't SEE it! God! Okay, for example: the look you just called him on- you know, when you thought he was disgusted looking at your battered body? That wasn't disgust, you idiot! Didn't you see him blush when you asked? That was love! That was lust, too! He's in love with you!" Jesus Christ, I think to myself. "Brian- think about it. When is Debbie ever wrong about Michael and how he's feeling about something or someone?"

That gives me pause. He's right. Debbie knows Mikey better than anyone, even me. Apparently, especially me, in this context. 

"But," Justin goes on, the edge out of his voice now. "Michael also knows that you love me. That you're in love with me. He even went so far as to pull me aside and tell me so- tell me how you show me every day how much you love me, even though you won't say the words. He looked kind of hurt about it. But he was right. How I lost sight of that for that short spell is a mystery. But I'm back. And I told Michael how he was right all along. He just crossed his arms over his chest and said how it's always nice to be right. We were in the comic book store at the time, talking about the next issue of Rage. The one- you know. The one with the cover art that we reenacted in the loft." He raises an eyebrow, looking to see if I recall what he's talking about. 

"Let me think. Hm. Um. DUH." That was one of the most intense blowjobs of my life. And I've had a LOT of blowjobs. 

Justin grins. "But Michael didn't like that cover. I'd tried to explain how it was JT melting the ice from Rage's heart- that Ice Tina had put there. He made some crack about 'Art imitating life?' It was obvious: He still loved you. And he still loves you. And I mean IN love with you." He watches my reaction. 

I take a short moment to process all of this and groan. I don't need this. I don't want to know this shit. Somehow, my payback backfired and I got smacked instead. "Everything with you lately sounds like something out of a Lifetime movie." I mutter.

At that moment, Michael clears his throat and we both notice him at the door. Justin and I exchange glances, wondering how long he's been standing there and how much he heard. From the look on his face, a while and too much. "Thanks a lot, Justin." He mumbles in a defeated tone. Justin winces. "Brian, your bath is ready." His voice is dull.

"Michael, I'm sorr--" Justin starts.

"Sorry's bullshit." Michael snaps. 

"Mikey, come here." I turn to Justin. "Could you give us a minute, Sunshine?" He nods mutely, looking very contritely towards Michael who has come into the room and stands at a distance. Justin gets up and leaves, gently closing the door behind him. I pat the edge of the bed, beckoning Michael to sit down next to me. He avoids my eyes the whole time, but wanders over to sit.

"Brian, look. I --"

"Mikey, listen to me. It's okay. Don't be embarrassed or freaked out by what Justin told me. I should have seen it myself. It won't change that we're best friends, Mikey. You don't have to be ashamed of how you feel. Or think that I'm horrified and disgusted by the news- 'cause I know that's what you're thinking my reaction is. I can see it in the way you won't look at me. Michael look at me. Michael." I reach out my hand and cup his chin, bringing his eyes up to look at me. I smile. "Mikey, I'm flattered and just a little baffled by what Justin told me, but I'm not horrified or disgusted. So, nothing changes between us. And while, as you just said, sorry's bullshit: I'm sorry for anything I may have been insensitive to you about, or done to seem to lead you on." I pause, gauging his reaction. "I guess this means I'll have to stop wandering around with no clothes on," I laugh lightly, thinking of all the times he's seen me naked in the recent months and years. I notice he gets a sudden crushed look and it's so cute I suppress an actual giggle. And Brian Kinney doesn't like 'cute' nor do I giggle. Usually, anyway. I don't know what to say to the crushed look so I just look into his eyes trying to convince him of what I'm saying. "And don't be angry at Sunshine, Mikey. He was just trying to clue me in to something I should have already known."

He nods, although I notice his jaw clench a little at my reference to Justin.

"You okay now?" I ask. 

He nods slightly. "Brian, there's nothing you do, have done- nothing that has been insensitive or led me on. Well, except you're always an insensitive jerk; but that's just on the surface." He looks at me with a slight blush. "Right now being a prime example of how that's just your persona and not who you are. You're just really complex, and that's partly why I feel... Aw, fuck, Brian. I don't want anything to change. I love Ben with all of my soul. But there's always going to be a big piece of me that belongs only to you. I can't help that. Neither can you. I mean, I'm not stupid. I know nothing's ever going to happen. You have Justin. I have Ben. I guess it's just that old habits die hard." 

I smile at him. "Tell me about it." I pause, pursing my lips in thought. "Although I've never thought of myself as a habit."

"Oh, Christ, Brian- you are the addiction of all of Liberty Avenue and more! And although you won't admit it, you and Justin are so hopelessly hooked on each other, if one of you were to die today, the other would have the body cremated and then snort it! Before killing himself, that is." I roll my eyes at that chilling analogy but say nothing. "No, but seriously, Brian- you aren't a 'habit' anyone seems to want to break--"

"There's Mel," I interject helpfully.

"That's only because her lover is addicted to you too, you moron!"

"Michael--"

"Brian, of course, you aren't literally a 'habit'- you're just a fascinating, gorgeous person. Inside and out."

I hold up my hand at that. "Stop. I mean it. I've been listening to enough of Justin's nonsense about this kind of thing to want to hear it from you." He opens his mouth to speak and I shoot him a warning glare. "I mean it, Michael."

"All I was going to add was that I'm thrilled to be your best friend. Period. Nothing more. I have Ben now-- or, at least I hope I still do." He gets a sad look and I sigh.

"You do, Mikey."

He sighs too and seems to allow himself to let that go for now. Then he winks at me. "By the way, you don't have to stop being naked in front of me, Brian. One of the things I like so much about you is how you aren't the least bit self-conscious. It's remarkable, really. Not that you have any need to be, of course."

"I'll keep that in mind, Michael. Speaking of naked, could you get me my robe and help me to the bathroom for my bath. I don't think I can make it alone. My body feels like I've been hit by a Mack truck."

He nods, frowning a little with concern. He reaches for the robe on the floor next to the bed and helps me up. I feel like I'm going to collapse, the pain is so fucking intense; but I manage to get my pants off and my robe on (the not-being-naked-in-front-of-Mikey thing be damned at the moment. I'm in agony, for Chrissakes.) 

There's a polite knock on the door.

"Come on in, Sunshine." I say as loudly as I can manage.

He opens the door and pokes his head in. "Everything okay?" He asks meekly.

I nod and motion him to come in. Mikey doesn't say anything and I find myself hoping he's not still mad. "Can you guys help me fucking walk to the bathroom. I feel a bit like I might fall down at any moment."

They smile and both come over to help me. Again, I'm flanked by my best friend and my... partner. Suddenly, the pain isn't so bad. Well, it doesn't bother me so much. I notice Justin looking up at me inquisitively and I grin at him. "'S'okay," I whisper. He beams at me, then leans his head against me as the three of us enter the bathroom. And it feels good. It feels really good.

Gawd. What have I become?


	22. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

 

I'm terrified. Brian is really hurt. He can hardly move and the bruises on his stomach and chest are fierce. Anger at my father roils in my gut. I should have stabbed the motherfucker when I had the chance, I swear it. 

Brian's in the living room laid out on the couch after having had a bath. Michael is in the chair by the fire, reading 'Dead Calm' to him. I'm in the kitchen trying not to flip out over all of this. I wish Brian had agreed to go to the hospital. But he's probably right- there's not much a doctor could do for him with his injuries. I suck it up and wander into the living room with a plate of cheeses and fruit. 

Brian glances over at me and Michael pauses in his reading. "You really think reading one of the scariest books in the world is a good idea in this storm?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

"So far, it's just about a couple in a sailboat on a windless sea." Brian says. "It's nice to think of being somewhere windless." He gestures to the rain blowing against the house.

I smirk. Maybe all this isn't as bad as I thought if he's joking around. I look at him in the firelight, always amazed by how beautiful he is- the shit kicked out of him or not. "How are you feeling?" I say, walking over to sit next to him on the long wrap-around couch.

"The bath helped a little. I'm pretty fucking sore, though."

I smile at him and brush a wisp of hair from his forehead with my fingers. "You need some more Tylenol?"

"Why does your family keep Tylenol up here if you're so allergic?" He grins.

I roll my eyes. "Just answer the fucking question, Bri." 

"Yeah. Probably a good idea." He winces inadvertently and I get a twisting feeling in my gut, seeing him in pain. 

Michael starts to read again and I take a candle to go get him the pills. How it can be so fucking dark out at 5 PM is beyond me. Goddamned storm.

As I hand the tablets to Brian, there's a knock on the back door. We all freeze. I steel myself and go over to get a golf club from beside the front door. No way will I allow Craig to inflict more damage. 

"Justin, don't..." Brian warns. "Don't do that. This. He's your father..."

I just look at him, determined. "He's not going to hurt you again, Brian. If he's stupid enough to come back here, we have every right to defend ourselves."

"Justin... No." Brian's voice is foreboding. He moves to get up but can't seem to, his face scrunching up in pain. My resolve solidifies. There's no way there's going to be a repeat of what happened earlier. Michael is looking at me worriedly but doesn't say anything. He probably agrees with me, not wanting Craig to hurt Brian further, either.

I walk into the kitchen with the club in my hands, ready to swing it at my father's fucking head if things get ugly. I get to the door, square my shoulders and look warily out the window. When I see who it is, I take a deep shuddering breath of relief. 

Ben. 

Thank God. I swing the door open. "Ben! Hunter!" I say loudly enough for Michael and Brian to hear in the next room. "I can't believe you drove here in this storm! I'm so glad it's you!" You have no idea how glad, I think to myself.

Michael is in the kitchen within a second. "Ben! Ben, I'm so happy you made it!" He throws himself into Ben's arms. I note he isn't as enthused as Michael. 

"Come in, guys," I say, gesturing towards the living room. "Brian is a little under the weather. We had a visit from my fucking shit of a father."

Hunter doesn't seem to hear me, intent on rushing into the living room to see the object of his fervent affection. Ben and I follow him. "Hey Bri!" Hunter greets excitedly. "Holy shit!" He gasps, stopping short upon seeing him. "Christ! What the hell..." his voice trails off. 

Brian looks over at our visitors, focusing on the most vocal at the moment. "'What the hell' is right," he mutters. He's still reclined fully on the sofa and there's a small bit of purple bruised skin exposed where his robe has fallen away from his chest. 

Ben's expression is suddenly full of concern. "Christ, what happened?" 

"As Justin said: Craig Taylor happened. Fucking jumped me."

"Are you alright?" Ben then shifts his look to me. "Should we take him to a hospital? I rented a car that can handle this weather."

"No! No hospitals." Brian insists. "There's nothing a doctor could do with me, anyway. Except charge me an arm and a leg." 

"A sexy arm and a sexier leg. Or the other way around. You're fucking sex personified..." Hunter purrs. Good fucking lord. 

"Hunter, give it a rest," Ben scolds. Hunter's fucking crush on Brian never ends. At least when I had my crush on Brian, I had some tact. Well, more than Hunter anyway. "Brian, are you sure you're alright?" Ben asks, sitting on the sofa near Brian and me.

"No. But I will be. Thanks, Ben," Brian says quietly. I think back to Brian telling me about Ben shoving him into a locker at the gym. But that was a very different Ben. That was Steroid Ben. "Mikey, wanna fix us something for dinner?" Brian asks suddenly.

"Hunter, will you come and help me put something together?" Michael says. Hunter huffs and follows him into the kitchen.

Once they're gone, Brian gets a serious look on his face. "Ben?"

Ben raises his eyebrows in response, sensing the change in Brian's tone.

"Ben, what's going on?" Brian asks simply.

"What do you mean?" His voice is guarded.

"What is going on with you and Mikey? I won't say anything to him if you tell me. But Ben- he's been freaking out lately. Since you guys got back from the hospital with Hunter. While I don't claim to know you all that well, I know you're not the type to hold a grudge - especially about something like what happened to Hunter when he's fine now. Plus what happened to him wasn't Mikey's fault. It was mine, really." I roll my eyes. I want to interject that it wasn't his fucking fault, but I'm not even sure I should be witnessing this conversation.

"I should go..." I mutter.

"Shut up and stay where you are, Sunshine," Brian mutters back, his eyes never leaving Ben, trying to gauge his reaction. He continues to talk. "Michael is terrified that you're going to leave him. That you're going to Tibet. He loves you. Mikey loves you, Ben." He pauses. "Why are you doing this? What's really going on?"

Ben looks at Brian, his brow furrowing. Then he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "Maybe YOU of all people would understand..."

Brian's raises an eyebrow, his interest now piqued.

"I'm getting sick. It's starting to happen. I think, anyway. I mean, if you know all this other shit already, he must have told you that my viral load is up. Anyway: cue part that you'd 'get': I don't want Michael to see me in pain. Have him watch me go through this... fuck it. To put it simply: I don't want to hurt him."

I realize that Ben is appealing to the king of pushing-the-ones-who-love-him-more-than-anything-off-a-cliff (who does so because he loves them so much). I look at Brian, whose eyes momentarily shift to me. He gets a strange look on his face and then trains his eyes back to Ben. "Ben, while I sort of doubt this is the 'beginning of the end' for you, I know Mikey would want to be there for you. He's fucking crushed by your apparent rejection of him. He wants nothing more than to be with you - whether you're sick or not. He loves you, Ben. Don't throw that away. Believe me, I understand wanting to push someone away before you hurt him. But, in my experience, that doesn't work out..." His voice trails off. I stare at him, but his focus is still on Ben, who's got an intense look on his face. He raises his eyes to Brian's but says nothing.

After a few long moments, Ben takes a breath and speaks: "Brian. Brian, first of all: I love Michael. 'Mikey', as you say," he gets a small smile. "And secondly... well... I don't want to push him away. But, I just don't want to..." he pauses. "I just don't want to hurt him."

Brian grins slightly. "I know. I know that feeling very well."

I'm totally engrossed by what Brian is saying. Because although he hasn't looked at me again- I know he's talking to me, as well. 

"Ben, don't fuck it up. Don't push him off the cliff. He wants you. He wants to be with you," Brian says softly. "He loves you."

"He loves you too, Brian." Ben says, his voice hushed. "He's still in love with you..." there's no resentment or jealousy in Ben's voice. He's just stating a fact.

Brian rolls his eyes. "Ben, you must realize that's all based on an adolescent crush."

I shoot him a look, knowing that's not exactly true. He meets my glare with challenging eyes. I wisely choose to keep my mouth shut. Brian turns his attention back to Ben.

"Ben, honestly: he loves you. He really does; with all of his soul- he told me so." Ben's eyebrows raise momentarily and a barely perceptible smile curls his lips. "So go on: live the lezzy-slash-breeder dream. Get married. Buy a house with a white picket fence. Get a dog. Have kids. Subscribe to the fucking paper. Get a lawn service."

Ben and I both snort. I note that Ben looks much less stressed than when he got here. "Brian?" He says tentatively. 

Brian looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

"Thank you." 

"I didn't do anything." Brian protests.

"Brian, shut up." I grin at that, starting to like Ben even more. "THANK you. For all of... for all of your insights." Ben insists. 

I smile inwardly and see Brian grimace. "Yeah, well, Mikey's been a pest ever since you guys got back from the hospital. I fucking had to do something."

Ben looks at him with that small smile. "And Brian?"

Brian just looks at him warily.

"I want to apologize for what happened in the gym awhile ago. That wasn't me talking- or acting. That was the fucking steroids. I'm sorry." 

Brian nods slightly, but stays quiet.

"And again, thanks for--"

"Okay! You've said that already!" Brian snaps. It's then that I notice him shivering slightly. I reach over and pull the throw from the couch over him gently. It's soft and while it's apparent Brian's wounds are here to stay for awhile-- he's also developed a case of the chills.

I glance at the battery powered clock on the bookcase. 6:35. Looking over, I see that Michael is standing at the dining room table, looking at us. He hasn't overheard everything again, has he?

"You guys ready for something to eat?" He says. We all sigh with relief. It doesn't seem he's heard anything.

Brian and Ben exchange looks. 

"Can we talk a minute?" Ben says to Michael. Michael gets a strange expression, then he nods.

"Sure. Of course." The two of them go into the kitchen. 

Hunter comes into the room. Groan. He comes over and jumps onto the couch by Brian taking Ben's old place. He's grinning. "Hi, gorgeous!" He gushes at Brian. I roll my eyes.

"Hunter, you should keep in mind that you are WAAAAAY too young for me- and not my type. And that you, mummy and daddy are staying over in the 'Little Cabin'. And I'm with-- And there's Justin." Brian says pointedly.

"Too YOUNG? Your creepy freaky boyfriend is only 3 years older than I am!" My eyes narrow at him.

"Justin is almost 20. And he's going on 45, mentally." I'm flattered and keep my mouth shut, listening to Brian. 

"I'll bet." Hunter sneers. "I guarantee you that I am so much better in bed than this piece of shit is- so much so that you'll find that this THING will never even blip on your radar screen again..." 

Brian and I both laugh. "Hunter, my dear," Brian purrs with saccharine sweetness, "I know you've been a hustler. That you've been around the block- many times. But," Brian catches my eye with a knowing look, "But Hunter, you haven't done half the stuff that Justin and I have done... really."

Hunter huffs and looks at me with disdain. His eyes turn back towards Brian. "I highly doubt that," he pouts. 

"Doubt it if you want." He says, thoughtfully. "But have you ever fucked a blueberry pie?" Brian adds. I smirk and watch Hunter's face. He looks a little shocked.

"Um." He's hesitant. Uh huh.

Brian rolls his eyes and sighs. "Whatever, Hunter. Just get over all of this. Over me."

But I know Hunter won't. And my thoughts are confirmed when I see Hunter grin and pick up 'Dead Calm' again. "What's this old piece of shit book, anyway?" He asks, cracking it open. Then he turns his gaze towards Brian with intensity. "Want me to read to you in bed?" He leers. "Or WITH you in bed?" Oh, good grief.

Brian groans. "Hunter, what is WITH you? Christ!"

"What did Michael make for dinner?" I ask, deciding this is hopeless and that it's best to change the subject. Besides, with Michael and Ben in the kitchen, Hunter's the only one in the know.

"Omelette." Hunter says simply. "Since the power's out, he says he's trying to use up the more perishable stuff first. Before it goes bad." 

I nod and scoot closer to Brian. "How are you doing?" I ask him softly. Hunter scoffs, gets up and moves to the dining room table, turning his attention fully to the book. 

I ignore the brat. I'm genuinely impressed with how Brian handled Ben. Surprised, even-- well, sort of; he impresses me a lot nowadays. Hell, he always has. 

I notice that he hasn't moved much since Ben and Hunter arrived; I also notice that his robe is still a little disheveled, partially revealing his wounds. I reach over and gently tuck it up.

"'How am I doing'?" He repeats my question quietly, then pauses. I look at him closely. His face has a slight grimace from the pain. And despite all of what he's been through just since we got to Maine- he looks beautiful. 

"Yes, Brian, you ass. How are you doing?" I say finally, when it's apparent he's not going to continue.

He gets a defeated look. "I hurt." He answers simply.

I feel my shoulders sag and I try not to look at him with pity-- he hates that with a passion-- but I feel terrible for him. "I'm sorry." Is all I reply. 

"Justin, none of this is your fault, you jerk."

I sigh. "Okay." I say in a small voice. "I'm just sorry that you're hurting." I pause. "Brian?"

He looks at me guardedly. "Yes?"

"You stun me. You really impress me. With how you've handled Michael. And Ben. Fuck, and Hunter."

He smirks. "And you?"

I smile. "Yeah. Me, too."

He stares at me, getting look on his face that can only be described as: love. He'd kill me if I called him on that. "Well..." he pauses. "Well..."

I raise my eyebrows expectantly. "Well what?"

He sighs. "Um, well..." And he stops.

I grin. Brian just said 'I love you' in Kinney-nonspeak. "Um, well... me too." I reply.

I glance over at Hunter over at the table; he's still absorbed in reading 'Dead Calm'. I lean down and kiss Brian; the innocent kiss becomes more carnal and our tongues duel each other. When I open my eyes, I'm faced with his beautiful hazel ones gazing at me. Christ. I want to yank him up and into the bedroom, but I know he's hurting too bad. He shifts, then flinches in pain. He looks at me apologetically. 

I smile. "Love you," I whisper, voicing what Brian just said without actually saying anything.

He gets a really soft look just before he hardens and snorts. Christ, he's got so many walls! I'm just glad I can recognize them- and have broken many of them down, despite Brian Aiden Kinney and his stubborness. I just continue looking at him until his face softens again and he gets a small smile on his face. "Yeah, well..." he says. Again. Gawd.

"Yeah, well: you too." I finish for him. 

His smile widens and he shakes his head. "Mindreader." He says simply. He gets a thoughtful look on his face. "Can you help me get to the table?"

Hunter suddenly tunes in and perks up. "I'll help you!" He says eagerly. I shoot him a look. 

"Why don't you go check to see if Mikey and Ben are ready for us?" Brian asks diplomatically. Brian turns his attention to me. "Come here," he breathes.

I lower my face towards his and he reaches up his unhurt hand to draw me down for a deep kiss. "Christ." He says after a moment. "Maybe we could suck each other off?" He asks hopefully.

I grin from ear to ear. "We'll see, Injury Man..."

"What? I'm no longer Rage?"

"Yeah, you're still Rage. But you're on temporary hiatus."

"Then who's Injury Man?"

"Rage's alter ego. One of the alter egos that take over when Rage is on hiatus. So, at the moment, YOU'RE Injury Man."

"Thanks to your father." Brian grimaces. "So who would Craig be in this little scenario?"

I frown, thinking. "Craig is King of the Fucking Assholes. He's actually as evil as Stockwell. Both try to thwart Rage."

"Do we ultimately defeat the two of them?"

Smiling, I lean down and kiss him again. "Yeah. We do. Injury Man channels his alter ego Rage and we do. In fact, we already have." I look at him warmly. "We already have."


	23. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

God, I ache all over. After we eat, we lounge in front of the fire listening to the radio. Seems this really may BE the storm of the century. Up and down the eastern seaboard the storm is raging and doesn't show any signs of moving on. Six houses have collapsed and ten people so far have actually been killed. That thought is chilling; plus, we're only in a little cabin- if this storm has caused actual real houses to fall in on themselves, I'm hoping this place can hold its own.

"Ten people. Christ." Justin mutters. I'm lying on the couch with my head in his lap and he's absently combing his fingers through my hair. I look up at him and notice he looks a little frightened. I reach up and touch his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Turn that squawk box off." I tell him. "We don't need a blow by blow of what's going on. We're in the middle of it, for Chrissakes. We have the live show."

Justin reaches over me and turns off the radio. I look over at Mikey, who is actually sitting in Ben's lap- which kind of cracks me up. He hasn't been paying attention to the broadcast, he's so goofy-eyed since his and Ben's 'reconciliation' of sorts. Cornballs. But thank God Ben listened to me and decided not to push Mikey away. What fucking drama queens. 

Ben smiles at me. "So when do Lindsay and Mel get here with Gus?" He asks.

Shit. The merry munchers. "Probably they won't- not with this storm. Lindsay's so protective of Gus, I doubt she'd allow Mel to drive them up here. But if they do come, they're supposed to arrive tomorrow."

We sit in relative silence for a few minutes; the only sounds are the ever-present storm noises and the crackling of the fire. Justin's fingers continue to travel through my hair.

"So, what now?" Hunter. "Group orgy?"

I wince at that thought and I see Justin do the same. "Um. I'm not really up for that, Jimmy."

He grimaces at me for using his real name. "Fuck you."

"No. Although you've been trying to since you met me," I remind him.

He smirks. "Yeah. I guess I have." He glares at Justin with what appears to be envy. Jesus. Justin looks back at him smugly. Jesus again. Kids. What can you do? "I just can't believe you prefer THAT to me." He adds, referring of course to Sunshine.

"Well I do, so drop it already." With that, I try to sit up but find myself flopping back down in pain. "Justin, could you help me up?" Fuck, I feel like such an invalid. I guess I am one at the moment. "I'm going to go to bed. Give my ribs a rest."

Justin gently helps me up and leads me towards the bedroom. I pause. "Are you guys staying here tonight, or are you going to your cabin? It's really close- I'm sure you could get there with your stuff and not get too wet."

Michael looks at Ben. "What do you think?"

Ben shrugs. "Let's go to our cabin. I see there are slickers hanging on the front door. We can bundle up, gather our stuff and make a run for it. Come on, Hunter."

Hunter looks disappointed but gets up. Then he leers at me, winking. Christ.

As they mobilize to go to their cabin, I find myself releasing a quiet breath of relief. As fond as I am of these people, I wouldn't mind having some time alone with Justin. Gawd. I'm becoming such a lesbian. Justin and I continue into the bedroom, closing the door behind us.

"Thank God." He mutters when the door's closed. He silently leads me to the bed. 

I nod. "You said it."

"I'm glad Ben took your advice though."

"Me too."

It's quiet a few moments. We're laying on the bed and he's tracing small, gentle circles around my left nipple. Practically the only place on my torso not blooming with purple bruises. 

Then: "Brian, you've got to do something about Hunter, you know that? He's over the top." 

I sigh, recalling his little snit earlier about being better in bed than Justin. And of course all the shit he was just spouting in the living room. "What can I do that I haven't already done? I haven't encouraged him at all, Sunshine- you know that. And I've tried to shut him down outright- you know that, too. He's just relentless."

He gets a grumpy look. "I don't know. Maybe Ben could talk to him."

"I've tried that- I've talked to Ben about it. Back at the beginning of the munchers' party before we were going to go to New York. He said he's tried to talk sense into him but Hunter's determined." I pause. "Sound like someone we know?" I cock an eyebrow at him knowingly.

He rolls his eyes.

"Seems I have another stalker."

"Shut up, Brian. Besides, my stalking worked. We're together."

"Well, it won't work for Hunter. The mere thought of being with Mikey and Ben's charge makes my skin crawl."

He smiles. "Good." After a few seconds: "He just bugs me, you know? I just don't like it when he hits on you so ruthlessly- and in front of me and his fucking foster parents!"

I smile back at him. "Justin, he's just a kid with a schoolgirl crush. Albeit a persistent kid." I admit. "Don't let him get to you."

He sighs dramatically. "I guess..."

"Besides, it's kind of cute."

Justin looks at me aghast and swats me-- "OW!" I yell- his slap lands squarely on a deep bruise. 

He suddenly looks terrified. "Brian, God, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that! It was just a reaction- I wasn't thinki--"

"Justin, as I've said before: don’t call me God. And it's okay. I sorta deserved it." I say, panting as I wait for the pain to subside.

"Well, I'm still sorry."

We lay in silence for a few more minutes. Then: "Do you really think what Hunter is doing is CUTE?" 

Jesus, he's really bothered by this all of a sudden. I look over into his beautiful blue eyes. "No, Justin. I was kidding. I find Hunter's behavior annoying. That's it."

He studies me a moment and then nods. "More than annoying." He huffs.

Christ. "Justin, why are you suddenly so stuck on this? You've tolerated Hunter's antics for months now with little more than a frown and a shrug. What's going on?"

"I don't know. It's been building up, I guess. He just pisses me off. It's like I'm scum or something."

"Well, I don't think you're scum. Isn't that what matters? Who cares what the kid thinks of you? Or me, for that matter? Just drop it. I have."

He rests his head gently on my shoulder, continuing to trace his fingers over the non-bruised parts of my body. I begin to doze. "Brian?"

Uh oh. 

"Brian?" He repeats when I don't respond. 

I sigh. "Yeah, Justin?"

"Are you sorry you came up here?"

Christ. "Well, no. But I AM sorry your father came up here."

"Me too," he whispers, a small hitch in his voice. It sounds like he's crying. Very softly, but still crying.

"Justin, are you crying again? What is with this place that makes you so emotional? You're never this weepy at home."

"Don't be a jerk, Brian. I just keep looking at what he did to you. It affects me. So shut up."

I relent; subtly I try to better cover my body with my robe but he stops my arm. "Stop it, Brian. Don't do that."

"Justin, you're upset seeing me." For some reason, that really bothers me all of a sudden; that my very appearance causes him pain.

"No, I'm not upset looking at you, Brian. I love you. I'm sad about what Da-- Craig did to you. That he's capable of such violence. Such hatred. Such incredible stupidity and blindness." He pauses. "That he so easily excised me from his life. I'm his son, Brian. How could he hurt the man I'm so incredibly in love with? How could he tell me I'm nothing to him?"

I kiss the top of his head. Now I know what's going on. He's mourning the final loss of his father- obviously not his literal death. But he's finally having to deal with his figurative death. And his father's rejection makes him feel like 'scum'. 

"You know, when Jack died, I didn't cry during the entire service or the burial or that party-thing-whatever-the-fuck-it's-called afterwards." He looks up at me with shiny eyes; curious eyes. God, it's so unnerving when he looks at me with such intensity. I turn my gaze towards the ceiling. "During the burial I walked off, not wanting to hear another phony kind word about a man who had beat the living crap out of me for so many years." I snort derisively, remembering how no one could come up with something nice to say about dear old Dad at the party, despite Claire's snot- and tear-filled pleas. Until: there was Mikey with his rose-colored hindsight, piping up with some story about Dad hugging me at the bowling alley after I bowled a strike. I don't know how he remembered that night in that way, but he did- must be something about not having a father himself. Lucky bastard. But it had been Mikey who had hugged me, not Jack. Of COURSE it wasn't Jack. No, and after witnessing the hug between me and Michael, Jack had called us fairies. And he had that drunken slur that I would often hear before getting beaten within an inch of my life. I got so scared that I pushed Mikey down and bolted.

"Brian?" Justin asks quietly, snapping my thoughts back to the present. I guess I've been silent for awhile. "What happened that day?"

I look down at him briefly, desperately wanting to raise my guard-- I shouldn't have brought this up. But he looks so sad- so conflicted about feeling bad for the loss of a man who wrote him out of his life completely- and wanting to hate the man at the same time. "Uh. Well, Mikey came up to me in that snowy graveyard. I took out a hankerchief- he, being the sentimental sap he is, thought I was going to cry. But I simply unwrapped a joint and lit up." I blink. "I refused to mourn the loss of a man who never wanted me born in the first place." I take a deep breath. "Then Mikey and I went bowling. And we showed up some red-neck freaks playing in the lane beside us- it was great. I taunted them, laughing and yelling how the fairies got a strike or won or some such shit- I forget. Then I kissed Michael right there in front them." 

Justin gasps.

I ignore his reaction and will myself to continue. "It was the perfect final 'fuck you' to Jack Patrick Aiden Kinney and all of his ilk: kissing Mikey in the very lane where Jack had scared the shit out of me in front of my new best friend one night so long ago. It was great. We had even won using Jack's fucking bowling ball. But then..." I pause, taking another deep breath, willing away the moisture that threatens to well in my eyes. I'm successful.

Justin reaches his hand up and softly caresses my cheek. I glance at him, watching a tear roll down his face before feeling it splash on my shoulder. He waits for me to go on.

I exhale sharply. "But then, Mikey and I were driving home from the bowling alley. I suddenly realized we were near the bar Jack would go to every day after work. It brought back memories of Mom sending me to get Pop to come home for dinner. Which was almost every night. And it was so stupid that Mom kept forcing me to go after him- not only was she basically unconscious on cheap Cabernet Sauvignon by 8- so dinner was moot- but also, he rarely would come home with me. But he WOULD always get pissed at me for showing up to ask him to come home in front of his friends. And he always held onto his rage till he finally would get home at 2 in the morning; he'd yank me out of bed and beat me." I release a breath, lost in the memories. "He had this belt. God, I hated that belt. It had this buckle with the *sharpest* edges. He'd purposely make sure those edges would flay me." I find that I do have small tears in my eyes and I suddenly realize I'm saying all this shit out loud. To Justin. Who is full-on crying now, albeit quietly. "...I dreaded those nights. I stopped sleeping well; I was constantly filled with anxiety that I'd wake up to a searing pain on my back, ass or legs before being pulled from bed and pushed up against the wall so I could 'take it like a man'. It's probably why I don't sleep well to this day, come to think of it. Christ." I pause, thinking about all those nights I've fought so hard to suppress. "You know what's disgusting? I longed for the nights he'd pass out before making it upstairs or he simply wouldn't come home at all."

"Oh, Brian..." Justin sobs in a hushed voice. "That's not disgusting. That's... that's okay..."

I look at his tearstained, flushed face and suddenly I regret saying any of this at all. "Sorry, Justin- I'll shut up. I had a point here somewhere..." I wipe my eyes, which are a little moist.

"No, Brian." Justin whispers. "Don't shut up..."

I scrub a hand over my face and look at Justin again. "It's upsetting you even more, Sunshine. That's not something I want. That wasn't the point."

"Yes. It's upsetting me. But I want to know. As painful as it is to hear, I want to. If you want to tell me."

"Well, as I said, there's a reason I'm telling you this fucked up shit."

"Go on..."

"Anyway, as Mikey and I were driving home and I found that we were passing through the neighborhood where dear old Dad would go out drinking with his buddies, I felt compelled to pull over. Michael thought I was nuts- it was about 10 below that night. I got out of the Jeep, no coat- clothed just in Jack's fucking league shirt, toting his bowling ball. I lined up the ball as Mikey complained. I said to him what Jack used to say to me sometimes when I was bored waiting for him to finish bowling so I could go home and go over to Deb and Michael's: 'Patience, Sonny Boy. Patience.' I finally took my shot and the ball rolled through the mist in a straight line right down the dark street, disappearing into the night. I could hear it still rolling after it was out of sight." I sigh. "I raised my arms; 'So long, Jack!' I yelled. Then I muttered, 'you son of a bitch.' I felt broken inside. For what Dad did to me. Didn't do to me. Felt about me. How I felt about him. I was devastated.

"Then I turned around, and there was Mikey. It took me a moment to realize that the one person who had been around for a lot of the shit I went through was standing right there. He was looking at me, heartbroken- knowing. Knowing how crushed I was. And something in me snapped. Just snapped. I remember seeing my breath ahead of me as I rushed into Mikey's arms. I didn't feel the cold at all. I was shattered. My father, one of the most abusive and cruel people in the world, had died-- and there I was: suddenly grieving for him. Like I'd promised myself not to. Something in me missed him. Or the idea of a father. The father I’d never had." I feel an inadvertent tear course down my cheek. Frustrated, I wipe it away. I force myself to go on. "And that's my point, Sunshine. You're mourning your father being out of your life, gone- and even though he was as horrible to you as he was, you miss him. And you have every right to feel sad; he was good to you for years."

Justin's crying is louder - he's practically bawling. I now notice that his body has inched closer and closer to me this whole time. He's so gentle, I didn't realize till this moment that he's practically wrapped around me. "Brian. God, Brian..." he sobs. "You are such a good man. Christ, the stories Michael has told me haven't even brushed the surface. Thank..." he stops.

After a few moments, "’Thank’?" I ask, confused.

"No. Nothing. I just feel awful for what you have been through. But I'm grateful for you letting me in. For telling me about it."

"The point of all of this is not to tell you about me. It's to show you that even though there's someone in your life who's a total dick, if it's your father, you still mourn when you lose him."

Justin cries harder and rests his head softly on my shoulder. "Brian, I never knew."

Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT. "Well, it's over now. So forget it."

"No." 

I keep silent, hoping this little soap opera moment is over. “Please…”

Justin stays quiet but pulls even closer to me. “I’m sorry.” I barely hear his words, he’s so hushed.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Justin. I survived. This isn’t about me anyway. It’s about you.”

He lifts his head and looks into my eyes, tears still pouring down his face. “No, Brian. Sometimes it’s about you. And this is about you. And I am sorry for what that asshole did to you. God, what a bastard. What a fucking BASTARD!” I’m a little taken aback by the anger in Justin’s voice. “I’m glad you had Michael and Debbie. I really am.” He’s more quiet now.

I realize my face is wet and I rub my hand over my cheeks. “God, I’m such a pussy.” I mutter.

“No, you’re not.” Justin says, combing his fingers through my hair. “You’re human.”

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? That will be our secret.”

He smiles through his tears. “Okay, Rage.”

“I thought I was Injury Man.”

“No, Rage the superhero is back, strong as ever.”


	24. Farago or bust?

This was a very hard chapter to write- but I wanted to explore what Brian actually went through in his childhood- one which, let's face it: Brian needs to come to terms with. Brian awakes from a nightmare after the conversation he and Justin had that night, right after Mikey, Ben and Hunter left. Because of this nightmare, Justin learns some very disturbing things about what Brian lived through. And why Brian is sometimes so closed off. Be aware: there are some very intense child abuse flashbacks (NO sexual abuse).

Life is a journey and Brian's has been very hard. But Justin is with him- always, whether Brian likes it or not. And while he won't admit it: Brian does. He needs Justin. Especially right now.

In short: this is NOT FLUFF.

* * *

POV: JUSTIN

I wake up feeling an unsettling movement next to me and confusion fills my mind. What the hell? Then I'm hit in the side by Brian's arm and I look at him- he's apparently trapped in some kind of dream. Or more accurately: nightmare- his expression is of complete and utter horror and anguish. I'm alarmed. "Brian! Wake up!" I yell.

"No! STOP!" He screams suddenly, still asleep. "NO!! Don't!!" His arms and legs start to thrash violently.

"Brian! Brian, wake up! WAKE UP!" I shake him, hearing the fear in my voice. I'm scared out of my wits- this is a first. I'M the one who suffers from nightmares- not Brian. 

His eyes open wide and he looks terrified. "Where...? What the...?" Then he seems to recognize his surroundings and his entire body goes limp. "Fuck!" He mutters.

"You were dreaming! I've never seen you that freaked out! ANYone that freaked out! What the fuck were you dreaming about?" I still hear the fear in my tone.

He tries to collect himself. "You don't want to know." His voice is strange- very strange. Thunder rolls above us and the rain pounds the windows.

"Brian, seriously- what were you dreaming about? You were scared shitless! You frightened me!"

"Sorry, Justin." He reaches for the pack of smokes on the nightstand.

"Brian! Really! What was it? Christ!"

"I was having a nice little Jack flashback is all." He rubs a shaking hand over his face. "Haven't had one of those dreams in awhile." He adds, quietly.

I wrap my arms around him; he's quaking so hard that he's having difficulty getting his cigarette lit. It's obvious that our talk last night woke up some pretty serious demons. "Brian, he's gone. He can't hurt you anymore."

Brian huffs, albeit shakily. "Shut up, Sunshine. I know that." God forbid he appear weak in any way in front of me, I think to myself. I suspect that what he told me about Jack Kinney last night didn't even scratch the surface. 

He scrubs a hand over his face again and tries to sit up. "Ow! Fuck!" I move to help him but he pushes me away. "Leave me alone! I can do this!" He struggles and props himself against the headboard, wincing the entire time. I simply bite my bottom lip and watch, trying not to look at the terrible bruises covering his body. 

"Justin, why are you awake, anyway? It's 2 in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"No."

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "'No'?"

"Yeah: 'No'." I reply simply. "Brian, you're hurting. What was your dream?" 

"Christ, Justin! This is NOT a Lifetime movie- please stop trying to make it into one! I'm fine!" He takes a drag from his cigarette.

"No you aren't! Look at you! You're fucking shaking like a leaf!" There's a hint of anger in my voice, though I'm not really angry at him- I'm just achingly worried for him. "Talk to me, Brian! Don't shut me out! What was the nightmare?"

"None of your business."

"You woke ME up because of whatever nightmare you were having. It is TOO my business!"

He regards me critically. "Fine, asshole. I was just dreaming of my 14th birthday. Happy now?" He shudders involuntarily and takes another drag on his cigarette. 

Huh? "What about it? Why would your 14th birthday cause a nightmare?" I recall my own 14th birthday. It was fantastic- I got a Nintendo that year. Daphne and I played that thing until we were almost blind. 

"Every birthday is- was- a nightmare. That one was just particularly bad."

I look at him intently. After a few moments, I raise an eyebrow, silently telling him to go on.

"Justin, what is with you and your digging into my warped psyche, anyway? Why do you want to know so much about my royally fucked up childhood?"

I'm not sure how to answer that. "Well, for one thing- that was no ordinary nightmare; Christ, Brian: you were fucking living something horrific in your head, whatever it was. It stung me to my soul to see you like that." I pause. "And also, I wasn't able to be there for you then. But I want to be there for you now." He rolls his eyes. I ignore that. "What happened on your 14th birthday, dammit!?" I know I'm pushing him, and God knows I wouldn't be doing this if I hadn't just seen the inexplicable anguish on his face while he was sleeping a moment ago. In fact, I'd be fearing for my life. I kind of am at the moment anyway, but I'm still going to make him tell me what the fuck's going on. It's my experience that you diffuse a nightmare by talking about it. That's what my mother always says and really, it's true. And that was no ordinary nightmare. 

"You don't want to know." He mutters. "Trust me, Justin. You don't want to know."

"Tell me." 

He glares at me. "You're going to be sorry if you keep insisting on hearing what you think you want to hear, Justin," Brian says, his voice full of warning.

"Tell me!" 

His eyes narrow angrily. "Fine, Justin. You really want to fucking hear this? It's not pretty. In fact, it's pretty horrible." He looks at me with an intensity I don't think I've ever seen before and I brace myself. 

I'm beginning to wonder if I AM really ready to hear this. Jack was a monster. The more I hear, the more I'm convinced that he was a total, complete, hateful monster. I notice that Brian's still staring at me, a mixture of fury, sadness and foreboding in his eyes. No, I'm not going to like this. But I silently nod. 

"Really, Justin. You might turn tail and fly out of the cabin into the middle of this storm to get away from me because of what I tell you. You're pretty sensitive."

Christ.

"Brian," my voice isn't very steady, I note. "Nothing that Jack ever did you to would make me run away from you. Nothing would make me run away from you period. But you're scaring me. What the fuck happened?"

He frowns. "Okay, you want to know all this shit about my childhood. And I'm just making it clear: you asked for it." I nod again hesitantly. God, it must be awful if he's hedging this much. "Fine. So here it goes- my dream; my memory: For many birthdays, Jack had a very twisted way of celebrating. Well, for MY birthdays, anyway. It started when I was seven and got into trouble at school one day. Which meant that I couldn't be on the school hockey team that year. Which in turn meant dear old Dad was not at all happy with his Sonny Boy.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the grand tradition started that year; the tradition where Jack would take up my own hockey stick and whack me on the legs and ass the number of years I was old. Years after Jack started this thing, when I turned 14, he swung the last of the hits so hard that he broke my femur- my thigh bone. Broke the hockey stick too, come to think of it. It was one of the relatively few times he actually took me to the hospital after a beating. And thankfully, it was the last year of that merry little tradition- probably more because of the stick getting broken than because of him breaking my leg. Anyway, when it happened, I couldn't walk, I couldn't move. The pain was so excruciating that I cried; by the time I'd reached that age, I rarely cried when he'd beat me. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But I cried that time and the look on his face nearly killed me- because it was just that: satisfaction. He'd finally broken me. Literally, in fact. It was the one time I remember The Warden actually yelling at my old man for going too far, after she saw the weird angle my leg was jutting; she insisted he take me to the hospital. And I remember being kind of morbidly fascinated by it when I looked down- it was like my thigh was kinked into a question mark. Jack just smirked, then forced me to walk on my broken leg to the car. I hopped as much as I could as he pushed me along. It was just fucked. Totally fucked." I notice that Brian's eyes are darker than I have ever seen them, the agony of years ago resurfacing. I feel the bile rising in my throat.

"The whole ride to the hospital I was crying my eyes out from the pain. And my old man kept pushing at me, jacking me around in the seat next to him, which would jar the split bones in my thigh- he was yelling at me to shut the fuck up. To be a man." Brian glances at me. "When we got there, he forced me to walk from the parking lot on my broken leg, me trying to hop as much as I could, crying harder than I think I ever have in my life. Then he picked me up at the hospital entrance and carried me inside- you know, for appearance's sake. He was muttering under his breath what a pussy I was being and that he'd already had a little girl- he didn't want another. That he didn't want me at all." Brian shivers slightly. I stare at him, my stomach churning. "There. Happy? Now you know what I was dreaming about." His voice has become progressively pained yet quiet and I barely hear the last sentence. His eyes focus intently on the cigarette in his shaking fingers. I somehow notice that the ash is about an inch long and the ember is completely out.

"I... er, I..." I suddenly find myself about to throw up and I run into the bathroom and vomit the contents of my stomach into the toilet, unable to get the mental images of the most horrific story I have ever heard out of my head. The most horrific TRUE story I have ever heard. The most horrific TRUE story I have ever heard- about what happened to the man I love more than my own life. When the heaving subsides, I get up and rinse my mouth out. I look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are red and puffy and I'm much paler than usual, although there are two small splotches of red on my cheeks. I'm sweating all over despite the chill of the cabin and tears are rolling down my face - I can't control them. I pant, standing there for a moment trying to regain my composure. It's then that I realize Brian's all alone in the next room; I quickly splash water on my face and hurry back into the bedroom.

When I get through the door, I see Brian still on the bed; and his expression stops me cold. He's mentally a million miles away and he looks so wounded, so hurt, so scared -so much like a lost and miserable little boy, I push back a sob. 

Obviously not successfully: he hears me and startles, turning towards me- his expression quickly changing as the mask comes on. He regards me critically. "I warned you, Sunshine." He says quietly, a slight edge to his voice. "But you asked, you pushed me to tell." I find myself rushing over and I hug him as gently but firmly as I can without putting pressure on his injuries. "And see? You did turn tail and run..." he adds with irony. I look into his eyes and only they betray his pain and fear. Otherwise, his features are now unreadable.

"Only because I had to throw up, Brian!" I say, finally finding my voice. "Jesus Christ, Brian! I can't believe you went through that! I am so sorry! I am so sorry!" I choke out. It takes all my strength not to smother him in desperate hugs and kisses, but I know that would hurt him in his present state. 

"Yeah, well. Sorry's bullshit. But I guess my little trip down memory lane last night dredged up a few memories I'd rather had stayed buried." He takes a shuddering breath and I notice he's absently rubbing his left thigh. 

"Did someone call the cops? Was Jack arrested? Didn't the people at the hospital suspect something?"

Brian's thoughtful a moment. "No, no cops. No arrest. At the hospital, to be honest, I'm not sure how dear old Dad got out of that one. Because it was very obviously a beating- he couldn't explain it away with his usual 'he fell down the stairs.' But I think Jack was fucking the nurse on the case. That might have had something to do with it."

Christ. "Did you tell Michael and Deb?" I impatiently wipe my face- the tears won't stop coming. Brian's right: I am more weepy than ever on this trip. But this is kind of extraordinary. And not in a good way.

He snorts. "No. But they knew- how could they not? I was in a body cast for 6 weeks. But there wasn't a lot Deb could do about it. Abuse back then was something you just didn't talk about. It was a family thing. The few times Deb actually called family services, nothing would happen except a few people would stop by, Joan would explain it all away, and then Jack would become even more vicious."

I let it all sink in, watching a myriad of emotions briefly make their way across Brian's usually even features before his walls come up full force again. I shake my head. 'How in hell did you survive?' I think to myself. "Jesus, Brian... you... he... Fuck it!" I can't seem to find words. And I sit here wondering what other shit there is about his childhood I don't know. Probably don't want to know. "How did you... how did you...?"

He looks at me inquisitively, although I notice the defeat and sadness also evident in his eyes. "How did I what?" He asks finally.

I try to gather my wits. "How did you make it out of there alive? And become such a success? Such a great father? Friend?..." I pause. "Such a loving and beautiful partner?"

Brian actually laughs- darkly of course. "I didn't, Justin. I'm pretty fucked up. You of all people should know that, for fuck's sake."

"No you aren't! You've put up walls, but you're... Christ! Brian!" Words fail me again. Maybe there aren't any words. 

He raises an eyebrow. "Now I'm Christ and not God?" He smirks, but without much energy. 

"Shut up with the jokes, Brian! I can't believe that I didn't know the half of what you went through till now. My God! I mean, my GOD!" I look at him desperately. "I mean, Brian, my GOD!!!!"

"So I'm back to being God now?" He says glibly. "Chill out, Justin."

"Shut the fuck UP, Brian! I'm so fucking... so fucking... enraged, freaked out, sad- fuck!!- I don't know WHAT I'm feeling right now about what you just told me!!! How could he DO that to you??? Fuck!" I start feeling nauseous again. There's a loud clap of thunder outside- I only notice because it's a little louder than usual. I ignore it.

Brian simply clenches his jaw, swings his legs off the side of the bed and gets up with a decided wince. "I told you that you wouldn't like my little childhood tale," he tosses over his shoulder as he cinches the belt on his robe. "We never did get Beam, did we?" Brian stomps off towards the kitchen. I hear a cork pop out of a bottle. I wait a few moments, but he doesn't come back in. He must have gone into the living room. Despite the voice in my head telling me to let sleeping dogs lie, I wander out of the room, carrying a couple of candles. I find Brian sitting staring at the now-subdued fire, a spooked and distant look in his eyes. He takes a deep swig from the bottle of wine in his hand. I place the candles on the mantle, reach down and toss another log onto the fire. The rain blows against the window panes behind us.

"Drama. I fucking hate drama, Justin." He says hoarsely. 

I feel my expression soften and I gently sit on his leg, very carefully leaning against him, wary of his multiple injuries. "I know, Brian." I nuzzle his neck. "I know."

He tosses his head back in frustration.

"Brian, I really am sorry that Jack was such a sick shit. That he put you through such incredible pain. Bri?"

He blinks at me, his eyes reflecting such a soul-shivering sadness that I feel it to my core. He sighs and nods mutely. Then, another first happens: he pulls me fully onto his lap and clings to me, and I hear him sob softly against my chest. Brian Kinney, the rock; here beneath me, holding me desperately- crying. The little boy in him unable to hold it in anymore. I hold him gently, carefully- but fast. I find myself murmuring how much I love him, how Jack was wrong, how his family was wrong, how he didn't deserve what happened to him. My heart splits in two. How Jack could do that to such a beautiful person astonishes me. I'd never known the extent of what he did- the extent of what he was capable of. And I'm somewhat morbidly curious as to why this shit has suddenly come back to haunt Brian now. Maybe because of my own father showing up, wailing on him so brutally- and hurting me. More likely the latter- he won't admit it, but he's incredibly protective of me. And then there's my pushing him to reveal shit. I'm starting to question whether that last part has been such a good idea. But in some ways, I believe that getting it out is better than bottling it up. I just can't understand how he’s kept all this to himself all these years- but until this trip, he's never really talked about his childhood. Never. Certainly not like this.

The tears are still pouring down my cheeks as I simply pull Brian close as he quietly weeps. "Christ..." he mutters, his voice muffled by my robe.

"Just let it out. Let it go."

"We aren't on Oprah, Justin." His voice sounds annoyed.

I roll my eyes. "No, but you ARE crying. And it's okay that you are. So let it out, you asshole."

Brian snickers slightly and pulls back. I look down from my perch on his lap and his face is flushed and wet, and his eyes are a little puffy. I've never seen him like this. Never. And again: it breaks my heart. He reaches over to the coffee table, grabs a clean napkin left over from dessert last night and blows his nose. "Shit. It's like I'm 14 all over again," he mutters. 

I rest my hand on his cheek, gazing at his beautiful tearstained face. "In some ways, right now, I think you are." I lean down and kiss his forehead. "Brian, it will be okay. I'm glad you told me. I... I never knew." It occurs to me that it's no wonder that Brian doesn't 'do' birthdays. 

"I swear it, there's something about this place that's... I dunno the word for it..."

"Magical?"

He looks at me like I've grown horns and he huffs. "More like cursed."

"I think it's magical. In a strange way, you voicing all this horrific shit is probably good."

"Thanks a bunch. You're not the one feeling like you've had your guts torn out and stomped on." He pauses. “All over again.” He adds.

"Actually, that's not true. I'm pretty miserable." These tears I can't stop are evidence of that, I think to myself.

Brian eyes me skeptically but says nothing.

"Brian, you think I like to hear all this shit you've suffered? It kills me! It rips me apart!"

"Then quit asking questions about it!" The frustration in his voice is obvious. 

"I will, Brian. I'm sorry. But I'll ask about it if I see you in another nightmare. That's the only reason it came up now."

"And the nightmare only came to be because of all the shit from last night."

"Yeah, but that was all you. You were trying to comfort me because of my father, remember?"

Brian's eyes lower. "That's true. But you pushed pretty hard to get me to tell you shit. Just like you did now. And I don't want to talk about it."

I did push, I admit to myself. I look at Brian's face, his eyes downturned. "Brian?" He doesn't look up. "Brian?" I say again. He looks up sadly. "You didn't deserve any of what Jack did to you."

I'm surprised when his eyes flash with anger. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, Justin. I'm done. No more. I don't want to remember this fucking SHIT! I don't want to remember all the times I'd wake up with night terrors or to Jack actually in my room pummeling me! All the times I'd come home from school to find him standing by the door with his belt in his hand! Him stripping my clothes off and whipping me with it until I bled - with my mother in the next room pretending nothing was happening! I don't want to remember being unable even to leave the house to go to my only sanctuary- Mikey's- because I was so bloody my clothes would stick to my wounds! I don't want..." His words are broken with a sob. The rage in his voice is so potent I suck in a breath. I silently pull his head against my chest in an awkward embrace. Again: I honestly can’t believe he survived. And so well at that. Till right now, that is. 

“You’re safe now, Brian.” I repeat the words he said to me when I had my meltdown not long ago. “You’re safe. No one can hurt you anymore.”

Brian buries his face into my robe and I feel the moisture from his quiet tears against my chest. “No.” He says simply.

“No?”

“I’m not safe. I’m fucking falling apart. Imploding. Why did all of this have to come up now? Christ!” The rawness in his voice makes me shiver.

“You aren’t imploding, Brian. You’re just remembering an awful time in your life. Remembering it more vividly than you’ve allowed yourself to for a long time. You’ll be alright.” It’s very weird and VERY painful to see Brian so vulnerable, so laid out in the open, and I hold him even closer.

“Fuck. This hurts. Literally.” I'm guessing his sobs wrench the wounds that this time were inflicted by a father other than Jack. My father. Then I hear him snort as he lifts his head away from me. “You know?”

I caress his face and run my fingers through his hair. I'm suddenly struck by how bizarre this whole thing is-- surreal almost; Brian baring his soul at 3-something in the morning as the storm of the century broils angrily outside. It's... it's almost Biblical in proportions.

“I thought I’d put all this fucking shit behind me," he goes on. "I thought it was over, done, finished. Since I went to college, it was like my childhood had happened to someone else- like it wasn’t real. And for whatever reason, it's all come up in the last couple of days and bit me on the ass. And I hate that it has. I wish it had stayed buried in my fucking subconscious till I died. But now I don’t know why I bothered going to Jack before he died to tell him I was gay. Why I let him even get anywhere near my son. What was I thinking?” Then his face gets a haunted look. “You know what was the kicker? The real kicker? The real kicker was when he would take me camping.”

I recall Brian mentioning that a few days ago. And it does seem odd, given all the hatred and derision and horrific abuse Jack had inflicted on his boy, to then take him camping.

“We went a total of three times in my life. And each of those three times, I’d catch a glimpse of what it seemed all my classmates enjoyed: what it was like having a real father." I shudder involuntarily; I was like his classmates. Craig had been a model father for years. "Sure, he’d knock me around a little after drinking by the campfire at night. But during the days, we would go out in his dilapidated old boat and we'd fish. He’d talk about his boyhood friends, about his old man taking him to Somes Sound to fish. It was almost... well, it was almost normal in a way. Like what I'd see in reruns of crap shows like Leave it to Beaver or Andy Griffith.” Brian’s voice trails off. “But then we'd drive home, him bitching the whole way about how fucked up his life was being married to a cunt like Joanie the Warden and it would all start going back to hell again by the time we arrived at the front door." He gets a thoughtful expression. "How Jack got to be so mean I don’t know. Maybe it was…” He stops. 

I wait for him to continue.

“Maybe it was me…” he whispers. The far-away look on his face makes me see that he doesn’t realize I’m here listening to him. He’s just thinking out loud.

“Brian!” My voice jars him out of his unhappy reverie. “That’s ridiculous, Brian! Never think that! Jesus! He was a sick fuck who got off on hurting his only son! I imagine his father probably did the same to him! Christ! Don’t ever say or believe that shit, Brian! You did NOT deserve what he did to you!”

He looks a little shocked. “I didn’t realize I said that out loud.” He says, a bit sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, you did, and I’m calling you on it. Because it’s not true. There’s nothing- not one thing- about you or ANYone for that matter- that would in any way warrant being treated like that.” I notice that he's stopped crying by now - but not me. I'm still crying like a little fucking girl, dammit.

His expression hardens. “Alright. Look, this has been fun, but enough drama! God!”

I lean down to kiss him on his forehead again and see his expression darken even more. 

"I’ve freaked you the fuck out, haven’t I?” He snorts.

“A little. But it's not you- it's what Jack did to you that freaks me out. I don't hate much- But I hate Chris Hobbs. My father. Bush- both the man AND snatch." He smiles weakly at that. "But I hate your father more than I hate anyone who has ever lived. He was evil, Brian. I had no idea the extent of what he put you through. And Claire didn’t catch any of it, did she?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Didn't I just say 'enough drama'?”

I shrug.

He sighs. “No. There was only one time when she crossed Dad up when he was drunk and he raised his hand to slap her. She was 19 and I was 15 or so. I ran over and pushed the motherfucker down before he could connect. God, did I get it for doing that. Even though I was older and stronger by then, he was so fucking enraged that there was little I could do to defend myself- especially because one of Claire's skates was near where he had landed on the floor when I tackled him. He grabbed it and... well, nevermind. Claire actually tried to intervene for once that time. Huh. That was the last time he landed me in the hospital, come to think of it.” He glances at me. "I suppose you'll think twice before asking for details this time, eh Sunshine?" The words are sarcastic but his tone is wary.

I take a deep breath, my stomach beginning to churn yet again. And he's been through enough tonight. "Some other time maybe, Bri..."

He just looks at me, pain shining in his eyes. “Had enough too, Justin? We've sure been on a roll tonight: sitting here in the middle of the living room. With two sure signs of the apocalypse going on at the same time: this fucking storm. And me talking about Jack.”

I smile slightly through the tears still present in my eyes. "Yeah. Next come the four horsemen."

"Well, I hope they're hot." He jokes weakly.

I smile again and lean down to kiss him. "Brian?"

"Justin?" He answers, guardedly.

"Didn't the school notice you being so beat up so often?"

He looks at me critically before sighing and deciding to answer. "I guess we're just gonna drill this topic into the ground, aren't we? No. I got in a lot of fights. Mostly protecting Mikey from the jocks. I was pretty good at covering if anyone said something. They rarely did. Jack rarely hit me in the face and I wore clothes to hide the bruises and shit."

I sigh. Everyone let him down. Every single person in his life. Even Debbie and Michael, in a way- they should have done more to get him out of that house. Well, Debbie, anyway. 

Brian yawns, obviously exhausted from reliving the horror of Jack Kinney. "Now seriously, I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's fucked up and it's also in the past. Let's go back to bed." He takes a deep swig from the bottle in his hand and puts it on the hearth. I just nod and swipe my face of the last few tears that have fallen. 

"You think you can sleep okay now?" I ask. I'm wondering if I can, actually.

"I guess we'll have to see," he says apprehensively. I get up and help him to his feet. "Just no more talk. Okay?" 

"Okay." I answer. "This was enough for one night at-" I glance at the clock "-now fucking 4 in the morning."

"This was enough for a lifetime." He groans.

"Brian?"

"Now what?" He says, frustration in his voice. We walk into the bedroom and he closes the door behind us.

I start to reconsider saying anything, seeing him standing there expectantly- warily. But, I decide to say it anyway; what's first and foremost in my heart and head: "I love you. More than anything."

He just stares at me for a few moments. 

"I do." I insist forcefully.

"Not too long ago, I believe I told you never to say 'I do' to me again, Sunshine. Now let's go to bed and forget all this shmaltzy angst. It makes my dick soft." 

It's more like Freddy Kruger horror than shmaltzy angst, I think to myself. But I just smile at him, noting the fine lines of exhaustion and pain on his face. I take his hand and we lie down on the bed. Then I spend the rest of the night watching Brian sleep fitfully. This time, I don't have the urge to sketch him as I normally would; his expression is so sad, it would kill me to preserve it onto paper. So I just keep my eye on him and stroke his cheek, thinking how much I hate drama as much as the man I'm watching over. And how much I hate Jack Patrick Aiden Kinney. And how this trip has taught me more about Brian than I ever expected to know. Ever expected there was to know.


	25. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

I wake up to blearily see a very tired-looking Justin staring at me with blatant concern on his face. Then I remember all the shit I revealed to him last night. Why in hell did I DO that? The combination of that nightmare, the memory it brought back and his persistence really fucked me over. He smiles very weakly at me, the worry still evident in his eyes.

"Wha's wrong?" I yawn sleepily. "You look like someone just ran over your dog."

"Nothing." He lies. "Good morning."

I cock an eyebrow; then I sigh. "Listen, Justin, about all that shit from last ni--"

"Save it, Brian. I'm not in the mood for you to downplay it as insignificant and in the past, okay? We don't have to talk about it, but it happened and last night happened. You can't expect me to simply sweep it under the rug like it didn't."

"That's exactly what I expect you to do. Because that's what I'm going to do. Otherwise, I would go insane. Like I did last night." In front of you- something I never wanted to have happen, I silently add.

"You didn't go insane, asshole." He huffs and rolls away from me, getting out of bed. "C'mon. Get up and let's make something to eat."

Well, at least he's hungry, I think to myself. Then I snort. He's ALWAYS hungry. Gingerly, I move to get out of bed and grab my robe. I'm so used to the storm noises now I hardly notice them anymore. "What's on the menu?" I ask, entering the kitchen behind Justin.

He glances at me and I'm struck by how utterly worn out he really looks. "What would you like?"

"Justin, did you get any sleep at all?"

"Sure." 

"Lovely; you've lied to me twice already and I've been up for a total of 5 minutes. Let's try this again: did you get any sleep at all?"

He looks away. "Not much." I cock an eyebrow at him. "Well, no, none."

"Why? You didn't have nightmares from what I told you, did you?" Christ. Jack's amazing: he can fuck someone up who he's never even met- and from beyond the grave, no less. I kick myself again for finally giving in and reliving that shit out loud to Justin.

"No. No nightmares." He answers quietly.

"Why didn't you sleep?" 

"I watched you sleep."

I stare at him. Huh? "Why?"

"What do you care, Bri? It's not important."

"Is it because of my godforesaken dream?"

He eyes me warily. "Well, you didn't see you when you were having that nightmare... I didn't want you to go through that again."

Christ. "Well, of course I didn't SEE me. But Justin, please. Please don't let what Jack did to me affect you." Too, I add to myself.

"How can I not? Jesus, Brian! What Jack did... What Jack..." His brow furrows and he swallows. "Anyway, you don't think much of yourself if you don't think every single thing about you affects me! Especially this!" 

Well, I don't think much of myself at the moment, so I don't say anything to his comment. "Just take a nap this afternoon and don't stay up all night because of me again- unless it's because we're fucking, of course."

He glares at me, letting out a frustrated sigh. Then he seems to let it go, and rubs his obviously tired eyes. "Fine, Brian. I love you. But - Jesus. Anyway- what do you want to eat?"

Good. "Nothing elaborate. Just toast is fine."

I watch him as he goes over to the breadbox, pulls out the bread and heads to the toaster. "I can't believe you made me get this low carb shit, Brian." Justin sneers at the loaf of bread in his hand. "It's not even food."

"Well, some day when you stop having the metabolism of a teenager, you'll thank me." I pause. "Hm. And that should be in about a week and a half." 

"Me turning 20 doesn't mean my metabolism is going to suddenly shut down. Your's still hasn't, Bri. You could eat like a horse if you wanted to, and not gain weight."

I ignore him and get the coffee from the freezer. "I wonder if the merry munchers will bother coming in this weather..." I say idly, preparing the coffeemaker.

"I doubt it. Not with Gus."

"Yeah." I miss Gus. I want to see my son. Reassure myself that the adage 'like father like son' isn't going to haunt him like it does me.

Justin is looking at me from the toaster. "You miss him, don't you?"

I don't even bother cursing the short beautiful mindreader next to me this time. "Yeah. I do."

"Me too. He's such a lucky kid, Bri. He has so many people who adore him."

"Well, he deserves that." I mutter.

"I wish you had had that growing up." He adds quietly.

I shoot him a warning look and turn to take down two mugs. For good measure: "Remember 'enough drama'? I meant it and still mean it." But all the drama of the previous night is standing there in the kitchen with us like a gigantic elephant and we both see it, despite our lame attempts to act normal. 

I suddenly feel both of our moods heading from bad to Total Shit. Christ, I don't know how I'm going to make it through this day. How WE'RE going to make it through this day. I groan. Fuck.

***  
POV: BEN  
Michael and Hunter and I eat a hearty breakfast that we had to steal the night before from Brian and Justin's fridge. I'm really impressed with Brian - a little surprised, actually. I have to say, he's changed from when I met him. Less rough around the edges. More overtly in love with his partner- although I understand he still won't say the words. Now, me and Michael- we are very different from those two: we say the words every chance we get. And we call each other pet names like 'Babe' and 'Sweetie'. It's silly, really, but it's simply how we are. I think the only 'pet names' between Justin and Brian are the Deb-dubbed 'Sunshine' and Justin's somewhat recent 'Bri'. Not sure when I first heard that last one.

Justin impresses me too. He's been through a lot for a 19 year old boy. Man, I guess. But he's always impressed me, except when he went off with that Ethan character. That floored me, actually. Because it was so obvious to everyone with eyes that he was still desperately in love with Brian. As he still is. And it went- goes- both ways. Ethan was kind of a bump in the Justin and Brian road. It never stopped being their road, though.

I don't know why I'm thinking all this, except for that talk with Brian last night in the living room of their cabin. Brian was surprisingly sage about relationships- Michael's and my relationship, in particular. But he and Michael are very close- he knows him like he knows himself, practically. 

I glance over and Hunter is babbling on and on about Brian as Michael clears the dishes. "Hunter." I interrupt. He stops talking mid-sentence. "You have to stop obsessing about Brian. It's bothering him, it's bothering Justin- hell it even bothers me and Michael. It has to stop. I've talked to you about this before."

"But he's fucking gorgeous!" He gushes. "And smart, sexy, cocky--"

"Yeah, well," I interrupt him again, rolling my eyes, "that may be- but rein it in a little, okay? You aren't going to get him to be with you. He's in love with Justin."

Hunter gets a face. "He's never said that! Plus, I just can't believe Brian prefers--"

"--That 'thing' to you." I finish for him. We've all heard him utter that sentence ad nauseum. "Well, as Brian has repeatedly told you, he does. So get over him."

Michael is listening to us from the kitchen, not contributing. Probably because part of him feels the way Hunter feels. Christ, I'm living with a man and a boy who are both in love with Brian Kinney. What am I doing?

But I know Michael loves me- deeply. According to Brian, he was really freaking out when I was purposefully being distant and saying I might leave him- all because I feel like I'm getting sick and I don't want him to have to see me with full blown AIDS. Brian was pretty damned helpful and insightful. He basically told me to suck it up and accept that Michael loves me and would want to be with me through anything. To not push him off the proverbial cliff - which could be named the Kinney cliff by now.

"So," I change the subject, leaving Hunter sitting there with his mouth hanging open. "Are we going to go next door to Justin and Brian's?"

"Knowing them, it might be wise to call first." Michael snorts.

"Ah. Yeah, you might be right. I'll ring them." I go to the phone and note the numbers are posted there on the wall.

I call and they say to come on over. Something is off in Justin's voice, but I don't mention anything about it.  
***

When we get to the cabin, we hang our dripping slickers on the hooks by the front door. Justin and Brian are sitting in silence at the table; the mood is different than it was last night and Michael, Hunter and I all glance at each other, sensing it.

"What's going on?" Michael asks bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Brian responds dully.

"You guys look miserable and Justin has circles under his eyes. Did you have a fight or something?"

I roll my eyes. Michael's never been one to beat around the bush.

"No. We're fine." Justin's voice is just a dull as Brian's. "No fight."

"Then what happened? The mood in here is like someone just ran over the family dog!"

Brian snorts. "Funny you should say that. I said something along those lines not long ago."

"So something IS wrong." Michael sounds really concerned. "Did someone die? Get hurt? Is Gus okay?"

"Someone got hurt. It happened awhile ago, but he's still hurting over it." Justin says sadly, looking pointedly at Brian who is avoiding his eyes. What the hell? Brian doesn't respond; he just gets up and goes into the kitchen for more coffee.

"Who? Who got hurt?"

"..."

I start to wonder if maybe something about the bashing came up after we left last night.

"Is it about the bashing?" I ask quietly.

Brian has wandered back in and winces at the reference. "Listen, guys- we're fine, okay? Can we drop it?"

"It not about the bashing, Ben." Justin says, earning a warning look from Brian. 

Michael looks between the two at the table and an expression of recognition crosses his features. 'Drop it.' He mouths to me and Hunter. Brian sees what Michael does and I see his face relax somewhat with relief

Hunter hasn't said much and he just shrugs, sits beside Brian at the table and grabs Brian's cup of coffee. God, he such a cocky fucker sometimes. "Hunter! That's not yours! If you want some, go get your own!" I scold him. But I notice Brian didn't protest - normally he'd grab the mug back and snark at the boy. 

"No, that's alright. I don't want anymore. He can keep it."

Hunter grins and takes a sip. "You know?" He leers at Brian. "It's almost like we're kissing, me drinking from your cup." 

I glare at him, as does Justin.

But Brian- something in Brian seems to snap and he lays into Hunter with surprising fury, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Hunter, shut the FUCK up, will you? You're one of the reasons this all got so out of hand! I don't want you, WON'T want you, ever! So zip it and leave me the fuck alone!"

Hunter's grin has disappeared and we're all staring at Brian in his suddenly animated state. "How could I be a reason for whatever 'this' is, getting so out of hand?" 

"If you hadn't been so awful to Justin, we never would have talked so much in bed about it last night and Justin's father being dead to him might never have come up and none of this shit would have happened! I wouldn't be reliving--" Suddenly he realizes he's said something he's wishing he hadn't and he gets up and storms out of the room yelling "FUCK!" as he goes. Lucky for him, whatever it was he inadvertently revealed didn't make much sense to any of us. Well, except for Justin. And possibly Michael.

Michael moves to go follow his best friend but I hold him back as Justin gets up and rushes after him. Then it's just the three of us in the dining room. "Michael, do you know what that was all about?" I ask after a few moments.

"Nightmares." He says simply.

"Could you be a little more explicit?"

Michael looks at me confused.

"Could you tell me what you mean in more detail?" I clarify, inwardly rolling my eyes, slightly amused. What he lacks in book smarts he makes up for in heart, though.

"Oh. Brian probably had one of his nightmares. He hasn't had those for years and years. But he had them a lot when he was living at home and he's had a few since then. And knowing how fucking persistent Boy Wonder is, I'm sure Justin wouldn't stop asking until Brian told him what it was about. And it's terrifying for Brian to relive those times."

"Times?"

"Yeah. Times. Basically, the first 18 years of his life. THOSE times."

"Why?" Hunter chimes in.

"He didn't have a very happy homelife. In fact, it was downright horrific. I was there for parts of it- mostly after something would happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Jack Kinney was a brutally cruel and abusive man to Brian. Physically and emotionally." Michael's voice is quiet and I can see from his face that his heart is breaking. "He would beat Brian bloody with his belt on a regular basis. I always find it unreal that he doesn't have many scars on his body to show for it. Mom and I would patch him up as best we could when he'd show up huddled in a big coat with no shirt because the shirt would stick to the bloody wounds." Fuck me! I'd known Brian'd had it rough, but I never thought it was THAT rough. I mean, he's so together in his way and so successful. I glance at Michael; he appears lost in his memories and there are tears in his eyes. "Once his father even broke Brian's thigh bone with a hockey stick. On his birthday. That was the year I met him." His voice trails off and I'm standing there in shock.

"Broke his thigh bone? Do you know how hard he'd have to have hit the boy to do that? Christ, Michael! Why didn't Debbie do something to get him out of there?? That's not like her to stand by when one of 'her boys' is getting hurt!"

"Ma called family services or something a few times, but back then, not much was done. And the beatings would always be 10 times worse after an agent would visit the Kinney home. I think she thought it caused more harm than good."

"But that's fucked! She's the kind of person who would go after this Jack Kinney monster with a baseball bat and finish him off herself!"

Michael shrugs. "He was a violent man. I think she was sort of scared of him. I don't know what was in her mind, really- but she cried about him quite a bit. I remember her crying a lot -a LOT- cursing the man and his sorry excuse for a wife. Joan Kinney did nothing to protect Brian either. She drank as much as her husband did, and would simply turn a blind eye when the beatings occurred. It even happened once when I was at his house. I didn't go there much after that. Bri didn't want me there anyway. But yeah, Ma cared- she was torn up over it. She cried almost every day about Brian's situation. About Brian."

I'm just shocked. Saddened. Angry. Enraged even. While I don't know Brian all that well, no child should have had to endure something like that. To me, it sounds like he's suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. From what little Michael has told me about what he went through, I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't suffer PTSD on a level that rivals that of a hardened Vietnam Vet. 

But how he turned out like he did is amazing. I've seen him with Gus and he's absolutely smitten with the boy. He'd never lift a hand to him- never raise his voice to him, even. This is so fucked up.

"Shut the fuck UP, Justin!" We all jump at the sudden yell from the back of the house. 

"Maybe we should go..." I suggest.

"No! I want to be here for Brian!" Michael insists.

"I think Justin has it handled."

"Not from what I'm hearing." He mumbles.

"Leave them alone, Michael." I warn. "Brian obviously doesn't like to talk about this shit he's dealing with and he also obviously doesn't want us to know what's going on!"

"Brian! Stop it!" We hear Justin yell.

"But I'm always there for him..." Michael mumbles.

"Michael, I know how much you love Brian." Trust me, I do, I think wryly to myself. "But this is between him and Justin. Don't try to get in the middle of it. Really."

Hunter comes up and slaps Michael on the back. "C'mon, guys, let's go back to our cabin. I saw an old TV in the closet!"

I roll my eyes. "Um, Hunter- in case you haven't noticed, the power's out."

He realizes what he's just suggested and gets a sheepish look. "Oh, right. Duh..."

"But I agree that we should go back. I saw a scrabble game in the closet next to the TV."

Michael huffs and relents. "I suppose. Although that isn't exactly my best game. Especially when competing against a professor. Still, I wish I could talk to hi--"

"FINE! Be that way!" From the back of the house again, followed by a slam. Brian emerges from the hallway and startles when he sees us still here. 

"We were just leaving, Brian." I say hurriedly. 

He simply nods and starts clearing the breakfast dishes. "God, this so-called vacation has been for absolute shit." I hear him muttering under his breath. "For absolute SHIT." The dishes clank loudly as he shoves them roughly into the dishwasher. 

I go over and get our still wet slickers from the hook by the door. I hand them to Michael who leads Hunter towards the back door. "Brian?" I say tentatively before I follow my lover. 

He just looks at me, having already forgotten about us being there.

"Brian..." I'm suddenly not sure what I could say that he wouldn't snort at or dismiss. "Just call us if you want." No snort so far, that's good. "And keep talking to Justin- don't shut him out." I sound somewhat like he did to me the night before.

He snorts. Fuck. "Ben, take your wife and daughter home, if you don't mind." Yeah, it's kind of rude. But I don't take offense as there's a lilt to Brian's voice that shows me that he heard me loud and clear. God. I must be learning what Michael calls 'Kinney-nonspeak'. He and Justin coined the term one night at Woody's. I had no idea what they were talking about then. I do now. It's a tender language masked in rude and blunt words and actions. I think Justin is told 'I love you' in Kinney-nonspeak more often than Michael and I actually say the words to each other, come to think of it.

So, I simply nod and go after Michael and Hunter, who are waiting for me at the back door. As I walk away, I feel my heart sink for the broken man now sitting glumly in the living room. Thank God he has Justin. Thank God.


	26. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

 

Christ, this is so fucked. FUCKED. I'm in the bedroom after Brian stormed out and slammed the door behind him. I'm trying to collect myself before going out into the house to talk to him. He's all freaked out because he inadvertently revealed what happened last night to Ben, Hunter and Michael. Normally, Brian could care less what other people think or know about him. But Jack's a different story. I told him that only Michael would catch on- and only possibly! Besides, he has nothing to be ashamed of! He's such a fucking tool and I ache so badly for him I could cry. I don't think I have any tears left, actually- I've already cried a river after he told me what he's been through. A fraction of what he's been through. I don't even want to know what happened when he protected his sister from Jack and Jack picked up Claire's ice skate. I wince involuntarily and find myself at the door to the bedroom. I have no idea what I'll say to him, but I have to be with him. I go out and make my way to the living room.

Brian's there, propped up on the couch, looking out on the storm slamming against the windows. He doesn't acknowledge me but I know he feels my presence as he quickly wipes his eyes and sniffs. I stand at the fireplace a few moments, looking at him. He looks broken. Beautiful. Sad. Unearthly. Human. Superhuman. He's everything. Inside and out. "Bri..." I utter timidly.

He turns his attention from the rain smattering on the windows to me. And his look tells me everything I know I'll never hear. He needs me. He loves me. He's in love with me. He's hurting. He's sorry. And I rush over to him feeling the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes. I wish I could convey as much in a look. Instead, I find myself babbling. "Brian, I love you; so much. And I need you. And I'm so sorry for what you've been through-- I know I can be a persistent jerk- I do. I just... my heart breaks for you, Brian. You own my heart. It's yours. And this shit kills me. Ben and Michael understand, Brian. Don't freak out that they know what's going on!" 

I've said too much. He stares at me with glassy eyes. "Justin, I don't own your heart. You do. And I want nothing to do with hurting you. Sorry's bullshit, but I have to say that I am sorry any of this came up- came out. I should leave. If you don't mind, could you take me into town to rent a car after this lets up a little bit? I'll drive back and you can keep the Jeep." With that, he turns his attention back to the storm outside and I feel like my soul is cracking.

"What?" Is all I can manage. Brilliant.

Brian remains quiet a few moments. "I think you heard me."

"But..." I say softly, incredulous. Then something in me snaps. Just snaps. "Fuck you! Remember when you told me to have some balls??? That it was so like me, to run when I didn't hear what I wanted to hear??? I'm not running, Brian! Neither are you! You fucking asshole! I'm not running simply because what you've told me hurts me to my soul! And it's not your goddamned fault, motherfucker! Nothing that you've told me about what happened to you is your goddam---"

"Shut up and come here!" He pulls me to him and the kiss is heated. I don't know what it is- I mean, anyone can kiss, right? But Brian kissing you can make you fucking cum without any other stimulation at all. I'm instantly rock hard, all anger gone, and when we come up for air I look into his eyes. Love, pain, need, desperation- a million emotions glimmer in his beautiful eyes. I capture his lips in another kiss, my love for him filling my soul to the point of bursting. 

"Bedroom." He says simply when we finally part. His lips are red and swollen and his eyes shimmer with lust. I nod, standing and holding out my hand to help him up. "I don't think I'll be able to fuck you, Sunshine..." he mutters once we're next to each other on the bed. 

"Brian, all you have to do is look at me and I'm cumming. For Chrissakes!"

He rolls his eyes. "Uh huh. Fuck my face."

I lean in for another searing kiss, my cock twitching and getting impossibly harder. "Yes, sir." I breathe when our lips finally part. I feel Brian already stroking himself and I maneuver so that my cock is at his eye level. He takes one hand and guides my dick into his warm, incredible mouth. Fuck!!! His tongue traces the vein on the underside of my cock up to the head; he sucks it hard, giving me a jolt before he laves my entire penis with a thorough tongue bathing. He palms my heavy balls as he strokes my dick with his warm mouth and pretty soon I'm thrusting into the heat and wetness with little regard for whether I'm choking him. But we've done this before- we both know how to deep throat. Brian's an expert. The expert. I continue thrusting, vaguely noticing his nose in my pubes each time I push in. His fingers wander from my balls and he shoves one up my ass- and I lose it, cumming in waves, shooting down his throat. He swallows over and over as my jizz shoots into his mouth. Finally I'm still, Brian still suckling on my softening cock. I pull away and lay next to him. He grins at me and licks his lips. "Nummers." He says quietly. That's Gus' word for 'yummy'.

I laugh. It's so cute and so evil at the same time, I can't help it. Then he holds his hand out- covered in his own cum. "Nummers." I say back, eagerly licking the cream from his palm and fingers. He has the most incredible tasting cum. Salty, sweet, creamy. Amaaaaazing. I find that I'm giggling as I lap up Brian's spunk. I lean in to kiss him and he tastes himself on my tongue. 

"What're you giggling about, Sunshine?" He asks idly, savoring the taste.

"I dunno. It's just that this has been one fucking weird trip. And despite all the fucked up shit that has happened and that's come up- come out; despite that stuff or maybe because of it, I love you more than ever. I couldn't love anyone or anything more than I love you, Brian." 

Brian scoffs. "Ah. Another Lifetime moment."

I swat his shoulder gently. "Yes, fine. Another Lifetime moment. But it's not make-believe." I pause. "You know? You need a pet name!"

His look goes from slightly bothered to completely aghast. "Justin, Brian Kinney does not do 'pet names'."

"You call me 'Sunshine'!"

"That's Debbie's pet name, not mine! Besides, it's fitting!"

I smile at that. "So you need one!"

"You've already started calling me 'Bri'- which is annoying enough!"

"That's not a pet name! That's just a shortening of your real name!"

"And you've called me Rage. And Injury Man. And asshole, on numerous occassions."

"Ah, yes. Asshole. That one will be used again, trust me." I'm still giggling like a little girl. Brian just smirks at me, rolling his eyes. It's nice to momentarily let go of the emotional roller coaster ride of the last night and day. Brian's look tells me how grateful he is to let go of it right now and my heart warms and breaks at the same time.

He goes on: "There's jerk. Motherfucker-- which, if you think about it, really doesn't apply in any way, shape or form. Then there's fucking shithead. That's a goodie."

I swat his shoulder again. "Brian," I laugh, "I was thinking of something a little more endearing. You know, like snookums."

He makes a face. "No. No snookums."

"Dollface? Lover? Cutie pie?"

Brian looks positively nauseous and I laugh even harder. "Sweetie? Baby? Dumpling?"

"Justin, stop it! I don't want to throw up the cum I just swallowed!"

And so I simply hug this man to me- this man who means more to me than anything or anyone in the world. "Brian..."

"Let's just use that one, 'k?" I feel his arms go around me and I melt. 

"Okay, Brian." I sigh softly, no longer laughing. Now I'm simply grateful. Grateful that I was stupid enough at the age of 17 to walk down Liberty Avenue that late September night in search of someone to initiate me into the world of gay sex. Grateful that I was stupid enough to find him on the first try. Grateful that I was stupid enough to know what I had when I had it and not let it go. And then really stupid enough to think I didn't have what I thought I had. But I'm grateful again that I was then smart enough to go after it again when I realized that, stupid me, I HAD had it. Yeah. I'm grateful. That he took me in. And then took me back. That Brian Kinney loves me. Me.

"What's wrong with you?" Brian's voice jars me back and I look up at his face. It's then that I notice that I have tears in my eyes. Christ.

"Nothing, Brian."

"I'm surprised you aren't severely dehydrated with all of the crying you've done up here! What are you crying for?"

"I... I'm happy. I'm just happy I have you in my life."

Brian rolls his eyes. "Really? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Maybe because you aren't me. It's true though. So shut up and leave me alone to revel in my happiness in my own way." I rest my head back onto his chest softly and kiss the bruises there. Fucking Craig. At least Brian can be touched again without him wincing in pain. Still, I make sure my touches are gentle and light. I feel his hand make lazy circles on my back and I sigh, closing my eyes.

Brian shifts below me. "Come on. Let's go back out to the living room." 

I nod and we wander back out to the sofa and he lies down. I sit by him and comb my fingers through his hair.

We're startled when there's a sudden rapping on the windows and we see Hunter on the front porch. Christ on a pogo stick.

"Leave him. He's not coming in. I'm sick of him." Brian's voice is dull. Then he gets a saccharine-sweet smile on his face and waves at Hunter. "Hi, Hunter!" He says, obviously unheard by the boy. Hunter points to the door. Brian shrugs like he doesn't understand. Hunter, thoroughly soaked, points again. Brian glances at me and we both then look at Hunter, shrugging like we don't understand what he wants. The kid stares at us, then huffs and books it back to his cabin. I laugh. 

"Do you think he's gotten it yet?" I ask.

"Who cares?" Brian pulls my face to his and kisses me softly. 

"Brian, I love you."

"Quit saying that! You've hit your quota for the day, Delusional Boy."

"New pet name? Doesn't fit, you know. I've never been more sure of something in my life. I'm not delusional."

"DB. It fits. It's close enough to another endearing acronym, 'JB'." 

I snort. "No." I say simply. 

He chuckles and I smile. "Sunshine it is, then." He pauses, his expression getting serious. "Justin?"

I nod warily.

"Thanks for... for, you know. For not running into the night screaming, jumping into the Jeep and fleeing to catch the next flight to Pittsburgh. I know all this shit is a lot to take."

"Brian, I would never do that, you fucker! This shit IS a lot to take- but only because it all happened to YOU. And because I'm only now learning about it! Brian, you haven't done anything wrong! None of this shit is because of you! It's because of your sick fuck of a father! God, I wish you'd accept that! Believe that!" 

He sighs quietly and runs his fingers through my hair. I lean into his touch. 

"You're loved, Brian. Everything that fucker of a father ever told you about you being unwanted was bullshit. You're loveable. You're loved. Very much so."

He shuts his eyes and pushes his head back into the cushion beneath him. "You are one persistent, tenacious, determined, willful, emotional, shmaltzy fuck, Justin Taylor."

I grin. "Yup. You're onto me. And I'm onto you, snookums."

"NO 'SNOOKUMS'."

I sigh. "Fine." Pause. "Sweetie."

His look stops me cold and I stay quiet. But I'm still grinning as I feel his hand slide down my back until he squeezes my ass. It's going to be okay. All of it. It may be a little over the top at times, but it will all turn out. Because we have each other. To piss off. To push. To aggravate. To unhinge. 

To love. Or, as Brian would put it, to mindread.


	27. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

 

I doze off with Justin laying on top of me on the sofa. The ever present storm serves as background noise. 

We're both jarred awake to the sound of insistent knocking at the back door. "Christ, now what?" I say wearily. Justin gets up and pulls me up with him. We wander into the kitchen to see a frazzled and very wet Lindsay through the window, carrying a crying baby Gus. 

"Let us in!" She yells through the door. 

I hurry to the door and open it. "Christ, Lindsay! You drove through this shit? What's the matter with you?" 

She gives me a pissed off look before handing me a screaming Gus and shaking off her coat leaving a puddle on the floor. Mel follows behind her, swearing like a truck driver. "Fuck! Shit!" She spits out. She stares at me. "Don't you look at me, asshole! Lindsay insisted we come! We were nearly washed out to sea on the drive up here!" She glares in Lindsay's direction. 

I turn my attention to Gus in my arms, who's now whimpering pitifully. "Shhh. Sonny Boy, it's okay. You're safe. It's just a little storm." He looks at me wide-eyed and throws his arms around my neck.

"Thah thunder is loud and Momma's yelling, Daddee!" He sobs. I glare at Mel who closes her mouth with a clomp.

"You're okay, Gus. It's alright. Look, here's Justin!" Gus just holds me tighter and buries his face in the crook of my neck. 

"Hey, Gussy Gus! You want a cookie, Gus?" 

Just the right words, of course. Gus turns to face Justin, his sobs falling away as he reaches out for the proferred treat. "Tanks, Jussin." He says hesitantly.

Justin grins at him. "You're welcome, sweetie."

I glance at my partner. "You sound more and more like Deb, you know that?" He ignores me, looking at my son. I turn to Lindsay who looks like she's just been washed up onshore, she's so soaked. "Linds, what were you thinking, driving through this shit with Gus?"

"They said the highway wasn't too bad. And the weather is basically the same in the Pitts. And. Well, and Ben called. He said you were hurt." Just then her eyes fall to my chest; with Gus in my arms, my robe has fallen away a bit. "Christ, Bri! What happened?" She reaches out and gently fingers the exposed skin.

"Brian, what the hell happened to you?" Mel. Ever the caring dyke.

"Didn't Ben tell you?" I respond.

"The storm cut us off."

"My goddamned father happened. He showed up the other night and jumped Brian." Justin says, not hiding the anger in his voice.

"Did you go to the hospital?" Lindsay gasps as she moves the flap of my robe back further, revealing more bruises. 

"Linds, you keep pulling back my robe and you'll get the full monty. No, I didn't go to a hospital. Broken ribs don't get fixed by doctors. They just have to heal themselves."

"But your wrist is wrapped up too!"

"Sprain." I say simply, reaching to close my robe fully. I don't want to scare Gus by revealing my wounds; he's quiet in my arms now, messily eating the ginger snap Justin gave him. It's starting to hurt to hold him up so I motion for us to go into the living room. "So were the roads really okay? I find that hard to believe."

"Up to the state line they were okay. But not once we got into Maine. We just took our time- it wasn't so bad. But we had to see you- see that you were okay. Now I'm not so sure we can reassure ourselves of that." 

Mel huffs and sits in a chair by the fire. "Lindsay, he's fine." She mutters. Justin glares at her. I ignore both of them for the moment as I gingerly lower myself onto the sofa with Gus in my arms.

"Mel, how can you say that?!? Look at him!" Lindsay protests.

I roll my eyes. "I'm just a little banged up. Mel is right- I'm fine." I pause, looking briefly at my son. I turn back to Lindsay. "Did you stop in to say hi to Mikey, Ben and Hunter?"

"No, we bee-lined it here."

"We can call them to come over in a few minutes." Justin says, sitting next to me and making silly faces at Gus. Gus actually giggles a little and shyly hides his face against my chest. And while his shifting body digs into my fucking bruises, it feels good to hold him. He's a happy kid. And that fills my heart with actual joy. Who'd have thought? Brian Kinney 'does' joy.

"Hey, Sonny Boy. Why are you hiding your face? Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Yes, that was me. I'm a basket case when it comes to Gus. It's like Brian Fucking Kinney leaves the building and some Brian-shaped marshmallow takes his place. 

Justin is grinning at me and I shoot him a decided glare. Gus raises his head and smiles up at me, ginger snap remnants at the corners of his mouth. "Hide an' seek, Daddee? Pweeze?"

"Gus, we'll play in a little while, okay? The cabin's a little small to have many hiding places though."

He nods sagely and takes another bite of his cookie. Then he holds it up to my mouth; I see Justin's eyebrows shoot up out of the corner of my eye, amused at this turn of events. "Bite, Daddee. Bite!"

I look at the disgusting spit-soggy cookie in front of my nose and take a deep breath. I glance at Gus' cheerful and generous eyes and decide: eh, what the hell. I take a small bite and Gus giggles like a little lunatic. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lindsay looking at us with- gawd- love in her eyes. Mel, on the other hand, snorts and tosses her hands up. Consistent bitch, that woman.

"You want to go to the cabin you'll be staying in? Get settled? It's at the top of the property- there's a separate driveway for that house." Justin says. "We can keep Gus while you unpack and shit."

Mel stands. "Yeah. We probably should. Dry off and stuff." 

Lindsay glances at her lover. "Fine. Okay. Here are some of Gus' things." She hands me a bag. "Potty training pants, baby wipes, his sippy cup. Oh, and of course his favorite: his Meathook-ready teddy bear."

I laugh. She's talking about the teddy bear I gave him a couple of years ago, dressed in leather.

"He calls it his Daddy Bear." She adds, smiling. "Loves it."

"Daddee Bear! Gimme pweeze!" Gus squeals. For some reason this all hits me in the gut and I force myself to keep an even face. His Daddy Bear. I'm in his thoughts even when I'm not physically with him. I feel the air whoosh out of me and I turn my attention to the bag I'm holding, intent on not showing how affected I am. But Justin notices. Of course. He puts his hand on my shoulder. 'Not now, Sunshine.' I think to myself. 'I'm trying to hold it together here.' I quickly fish out the toy and give it to the boy in my arms. "Lemme down, Daddee! I wanna pway with Daddee Bear!"

I lower him to the floor and he goes over to play under the dining room table. Weird kid. 

Wonderful kid.

After a moment of us all watching Gus, Justin goes to the kitchen and comes back with a set of keys. "If you go out this driveway, your cabin's driveway is the next one up the street. Here." Justin hands the keys to Lindsay. "The numbers to the cabins are posted over the phone. Just give a ring when you want to come back down for lunch."

Lindsay smiles and leans in for a quick kiss. Then she kisses me and looks me in the eyes. "I'm glad to see you, Bri. Even if it is a hurt you." She pauses. "Love you." She adds quietly. Mel rolls her eyes. 'What is her damage?' I wonder. I've been nothing but sweetness and light since they arrived!

I choose to ignore the bitch and I nod and smile back at Lindsay. "Me too, Linds. Go get dry and cleaned up. We'll work on lunch." Then I look back at Mel. "Later, Mel."

She sighs and nods. "We'll be back down soon. Keep a close eye on Gus. This place doesn't look at all baby-proofed."

I glance over at my son under the table and smile. "We'll be fine." The lezzies bundle in their coats and make a mad dash through the storm to their car. 

"Daddee! Jussin! Come play!"

"Let's play after lunch, Sonny Boy. Right now we have to get some food on the table."

"Lunch! Mmmm!"

"He takes after you, Sunshine." I snort. He grins- probably more from me acknowledging his place in my weird little family than because of my veiled reference to his bottomless-pit appetite. 

"Yeah. I guess he does." He says quietly. "C'mon, Gussy- want to help with fixing lunch?"

"Yesh!" He sputters, taking Justin's hand and pulling him into the kitchen. 

I pick up the phone and call the Bruckner's. Mikey answers on the first ring. "Brian?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You okay?"

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Yeah. I'm fine. We're fine. Listen, the munchers actually braved this freaky storm with Gus. They're getting unpacked and we're getting lunch ready. You guys want to come over?"

"Sure!"

"Leave Hunter behind though."

"Briiiannn."

I relent. "Okay, bring the fucker. But tell him to behave, okay? He's really been pissing me off."

"Ben's been talking to him. He actually walked over to your cabin earlier- he said to apologize."

I'm taken aback. "Well, we didn't let him in."

"I know. He told us. Probably a wise move on your part- I kind of doubted he was really going to apologize."

"Okay. Come over whenever." I hang up. I listen to Justin telling Gus to carry the napkins to me so I can put them on the table. Next I see Gus round the corner, wobbling a bit and he beams at me. 

"Here Daddee! I'm helping!"

"Yes you are, Sonny Boy! Thank you!" I take the fist full of napkins and toss them on the table. "So you're potty training. How's that going?"

"Gweat! I haven't had an accident in months, Mommy says. I still wear the pants though. Mommy says for just a little longer and then I wear big boy underpants!"

I smile and reach down to pick him up, thinking to myself how, once you're potty trained, why not just go commando? I get to wondering how I was ever potty trained. No one in the Kinney home had any inclination to care for a toddler- for anyone, actually. I probably learned not to pee in my pants after getting slugged by Jack for doing so. I shudder and put it out of my mind. "I'm proud of you, Gus. You're doing great." 

Justin then comes out and snorts at the pile of napkins on the table. "You could at least put them at the place settings, Bri." He complains as he starts to lay them out at each place.

"Really, Justin? I figure all I have to do is wait for you to come out, snort, complain, and then do it for me."

"Smartass." He mutters.

"Smartass!" Gus mimics. Justin gets a stricken look and his eyes meet mine. 

"It's okay, Justin." I smile. "It could have been worse. Besides, now he can snark at Mel."

"Snark?" Gus says. "Wha's snark?"

"Ask your mommies." We both say at once.

Just then the phone rings and the Bruckner's knock at the back door. Justin and I glance at each other, both steeling ourselves for what looks to be a long afternoon. I go get the phone and Justin opens the back door. The munchers tell me they are on their way. I hang up and we all start putting food on the table.

As I place a bowl of chips out, there's another knock at the door. I vaguely wonder how the munchers got down here so fast, but I call out that it's open. I head into the kitchen on my way to the bedroom to put on a shirt and I stop cold. "Emmett? Theodore? DEBBIE?"

Deb drops her bags, rushes up to me and wags her finger in my face. "You better be okay, you little shit! Are you? Christ! Look at you!" She exclaims as she rips open my robe. I'm suddenly grateful that I'd already previously put on my pants. "My God! Craig really hurt you bad! You need medical help, asshole! Why didn't you go to the hospital? Here, come here." I don't have time to get a word in edgewise as Debbie gently yet insistently pulls me into the living room as though this were her own house. "You lie down on that sofa, you jerk! Why didn't you call me? I had to hear it from my son that you were beaten to within an inch of your life! Christ! Those bruises are nasty, Brian. Shit!" She exclaims. "This rivals some of the times you'd show up at the front door after Ja--" She stops herself suddenly, realizing what she was about to say and the fact that everyone is in the room listening. 

I swallow and push from my mind the direction she was heading. I shoot a glare at Michael. He is SO going to pay for talking to 'Ma'. "Deb, I'm fine! There's nothing any amount of doctoring can do for me! It's okay! And I don't need to lie down!" I sit on the couch and glance over at Gus who is watching all of this sudden activity from next to the table.

Justin picks him up and comes over. "Brian's actually doing much better, Deb. Don't worry- he'll be fine."

Her head swings around and I'm sprayed by the rainwater trapped in her wig. "Sunshine! Did he hurt you too?"

He shakes his head. "Just Brian. He jumped him."

"I know. Michael told me yesterday. As soon as I heard, I immediately got these two clowns to drive me up here," she gestures towards Ted and Emmett. Her expression immediately softens when she notices Gus. "Hey, Gussy Gus! How's my sweetie?"

Gus smiles shyly. "Fine, Ganma Debbie." Then he frowns. "Is Daddee huhrt?"

Shit.

Justin jostles Gus, getting his attention. "Gus- your Daddy's fine. You can see that for yourself- he's right there."

I quickly close my robe which has been hanging open since Deb's 'surprise inspection'. 

"Why does he have so many bwuises?"

"C'mere, Sonny Boy," I say to him gently as Justin hands me my child. "I'm okay."

Gus smiles at me, seemingly content to believe that I'm fine. "Good. I don't want you huhrting, Daddee." 

"Oh! How sweet!" Emmett chokes out, fanning his face with his hand like he's about to cry. Good grief.

I ignore him. "You c'mere too, 'Jussin'." I say, mimicking Gus. I grab Justin's hand and yank him down next to me. 'Jussin' plops onto the sofa with a slight laugh. Sonny Boy lays on my torso, now quietly sucking on his finger. He regards Justin curiously. Justin leans down and gives him a kiss on his head. Then he comes up and gives me a lingering kiss on the lips.

Gus giggles. "Daddee and Jussin are kissin'!"

Debbie's grinning- I just know it. Sure enough: "As it should be," she mutters happily. When our lips part, Justin smiles at me and pulls away. Then Deb reaches over and tousles my hair before chucking me gently under the chin. "As it should be." She repeats. She leans in close to me to whisper in my ear. "I'm proud of you, Brian. You and Justin are doing really well. Good for you." She sits back, still grinning at me. 

Uh huh. We have something of an audience, I suddenly remember. I clear my throat. "So, Emmett. Mikey said you had a catering job and wouldn't be coming up. What happened?" I ask; he's recovered somewhat from his near break down a few moments ago. 

"Cancelled because of the weather." Emmett answers. "It was an outdoor affair, and this storm is raging in the Pitts almost as bad as it is here." After a moment, he looks at me sadly, lowering his voice: "And sweetie, I'm so sorry about what happened with Mr. Taylor." 

I just wave him off. I smile inwardly though- of all the fags in the world of Liberty Avenue- Justin included- Emmett's the only one who can call me 'sweetie' and not have me immediately give him shit for it. It's just Emmett's way. I like the queen. He's out, proud, and he's about as camp as they get. 

"Well, you all are going to have to stay with the girls up at the big house. There are enough rooms in that house for everyone." Justin says- just as the munchers come through the back door.

"Mommies!" Gus greets them.

"Goodness! Everyone is here!" Lindsay exclaims, looking around. 

"Seems that, between Mikey and Ben, the whole gang was told of my... condition." I say wryly. Michael and Ben both look at me sheepishly.

"I only told Lindsay because she would want to know. I'm sorry. I didn't know they would drive through this mess to see how you were doing." Ben says apologetically. 

Yeah. That kinda surprises me too.

"Same with me telling Ma." Michael chimes in.

"Brian, you asshole! You should have told me yourself!" Said 'Ma' bitches.

"You should have told me, too, Bri. You know, we all love you." Lindsay says.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and look how it ended up when you all learned what happened! We're having a dick softening pity party and I'm the guest of honor! Drop it, everyone! I hate this kind of shit!" 

Debbie swats me upside the head. "Don't you talk to your family like that, you ass! Now come on- I'll put something out for lunch that's more presentable than that mess!" She gestures at the food already on the table.

I get up, still holding Gus. Debbie goes into the kitchen while the rest of the freakshow begin to wander around the cabin, commenting on how quaint it is (Emmett), how cold it is (Ted), how un-baby-proofed it is (Mel- again), and how lovely the artwork on the walls is (Lindsay). Justin looks at me and smiles. "See?" He gloats. "You're loved. How many people have friends and family who would drive through the fucking storm of the century just to see how you were doing?"

Oh, Christ. "Shut up, Justin. Not now."

He continues grinning at me and Gus. "'Kay. My point's made, though. That's all that matters." 

I just shoot him a glare. Cocky fucker.

"Justin, get your bubble butt in here and help me set the table properly!"

Justin jogs into the kitchen and I kiss Gus on the top of his head. I look at him intently, his head resting on my shoulder as he regards me with wide, content, shiny eyes. "Gus?" He's sucking his finger and smiles slightly around it, waiting for my question- it's endearing. "Sonny Boy?" I gently lift his chin up so he's looking directly into my eyes. "Gus, honey, are you happy?" I whisper, quickly leaning in to nuzzle his ear. 

For some reason, I need some kind of reassurance.

He giggles at my apparently ridiculous question. He pulls his finger from his mouth, looking at me with unabashed affection. "Yesh, Daddee." He splutters. "You're silly, Daddee!" He acts like I'm nuts to think there is any other response to that question. I marvel at his reply. He's beautiful, happy, and he can't imagine being anything but. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his forehead, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and baby powder and just plain Gus as my heart wells. Hey, it's a private moment with my kid. I can allow myself this... "Luv you, Daddee." Gus adds, seeming to suddenly realize that I'm really not kidding around at the moment.

I smile and curl my arms around him a little more firmly. "Me too, Gus. I love you too."

I open my eyes and it's then that I notice Lindsay has walked up and is standing there watching us quietly. "Bri?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"Brian, are you okay?"

"Yes, Lindsay. I'm peachy. Here, you take him for a minute. I'm getting a little sore." I transfer Gus into her arms; he protests but relents. I lean down, grab the teddy bear off the floor and hand it to him.

"Tanks, Daddee!"

Lindsay raises an eyebrow - but doesn't push it for once. Although, I know the look she's giving me. I'll be hearing more about this later.

Hunter comes up to me. "Hey, Bri." He's been in the background for so long, I'm not surprised he shows up finally.

"Hey," I mutter. 

"Can I hold him?" He asks Lindsay. This is a first.

She looks at me hesitantly, then at Gus. 

"I won't drop him. I promise." Hunter insists. I shrug. I see Justin glancing over at the scene from the kitchen as Deb loads his arms up with plates. He frowns slightly but then simply rolls his eyes.

Lindsay hands Gus to Hunter who holds him somewhat awkwardly. "He smells like baby powder." Hunter observes.

"Well, he's a baby, Hunter." I say like he's an idiot. 

Hunter gives me a withering look and then grins. "He's so beautiful, Brian. He looks just like you, you know that? Even though I've seen him before, it really strikes me today how similar you two look."

 

Who is this pod person and where did Hunter go? "Uh huh..." I say warily. Justin has come into the room and has heard some of this exchange. He gives me a look that must reflect my own. One of shock. Hunter's being normal. Nice, even. Rated G.

"Maybe I should wait for this Kinney to grow up instead of pursuing you." He adds. Ah. There's the Hunter we all know and barely tolerate. And right now: want to murder. "'Course, I'd have to wait a long time. This Kinney's pretty little."

"Hunter! Fuck! Shut the fuck up! This is my son!" I grab my child from his arms and shudder. "What the fuck is wrong with you! Christ! Seriously! That's sick! That's really sick!" For the first time, I actually find myself caring whether Gus is straight or gay- and right now, I'm choosing straight!

Lindsay nods, glares at Hunter and takes Gus from me. "Lambskin, let's get you washed up for lunch." Gus looks from her to me to Hunter, confused. 

"'Kay." He answers simply, no clue what just happened. "Mommy? I thought my name was Marcus-Petason. Am I a Kinney?"

I freeze, all thoughts of wringing Hunter's throat vanishing. Mel glances over too.

Lindsay looks at Gus and then smiles at me. "Your Daddy is a Kinney. So you're one too. You don't have his last name, but you are Kinney by blood, sweetie."

I wince. That thought alone gives me pause. Passing on the great Kinney legacy.

"Why don't I have Daddee's last name, Mommy? I want Daddee's last name too!" He pouts.

"Because as you just said: you're a Marcus-Peterson, sweetie. Momma and Mommy are your legal guardians."

Almost everyone in the room knows about how hard it was for me to give up my parental rights those years ago- thanks to Justin blabbing to any fag with ears about my so-called selflessness -- and the cabin's become hushed as this little scene plays out. The only noises are the storm and Deb in the kitchen, oblivious to what's going on. It's apparent that the small crowd is worried that this could trigger a Kinney tantrum- from either Kinney.

Gus looks confused. "My what?"

"Your parents, sweetie."

My stomach starts to churn and I look away. 

"Daddee's my paren'." Gus protests.

Lindsay sucks in a breath. I glare at Hunter who has once again inadvertently fucked up my life. Mel looks at the three of us sharply. "Gus, sweetie, we're your full-time parents." She says to my boy. I look over to find Justin looking straight at me with a broken expression. 

I blink and look back to Gus who is now reaching for me. "I don't unnerstan'!"

I take him into my arms before Linds loses her grip on the squirming near 3-year old. "Gus." I say, clearing my throat and willing my voice to stay calm and light. "You're right. I am your parent. You are my son. My only son. I love you and just because you don't have my last name, that doesn't mean you're any less my child or that I love you any less than your mommies do. Just think how lucky you are! You have three pare-- well essentially, four parents, if you count Justin. Most kids only have two! Okay?"

Gus' lower lip quivers slightly but I smile at him and rub our noses together. "'Skimo kisses! You give the best 'skimo kisses, Daddee!" He laughs.

"The Eskimos themselves taught your Daddy how to give Eskimo kisses, Sonny Boy!" I grin at him. He giggles and Lindsay exhales with relief: overtly emotional scene averted. For the most part, anyway. "Now, go get washed up with Mommy and we can have lunch, okay?"

"'Kay, Daddee. Love you, Daddee." 

Lindsay smiles at the two of us. Even Mel gives me an affectionate look- yuck. Ted, Mikey, Ben, Hunter and Justin all look at us with small smiles and relieved expressions. Linds takes Gus from me and heads back to the bathroom to wash up. Emmett is still exploring the cabin, it would appear. Debbie bursts into the room to see everyone basically still and quiet.

"What the fuck?" She demands, her mouth free to curse up a storm as Gus isn't around. Not that we've been very careful about language, I note to myself. Surprised Linds has been so tolerant, actually.

Ted shakes his head. "We were just finding out that Brian Kinney is human after all." Is all he says. Justin frowns at him. 

"Need more help in there, Deb?" I want nothing more than for this day to be over all of a sudden.

She looks around, then shrugs and nods. "I need someone to put out the bread and salad."

"I'll help." Mel says.

"Fine. Then you can fill me in on what drama I missed out on while I was in the kitchen the last few moments."

Things slowly settle back to normal and I move to sit back down on the sofa, my ribs aching. 

Suddenly: "Justin, this place is wonderful!" Emmett gushes, coming into the room from the back, also oblivious to what just happened. "It's so Norman Rockwell!"

Rockwell would be spinning in his grave if he had to paint this scene- a group of rag tag queers yammering away in a storm ravaged cabin. Justin looks up at him from the table where he's now putting out silverware. "Yeah. It's a part of my soul, really. You'll like where you'll be staying too. It's even more Rockwellian. That cabin was actually here when Grandpa bought the place- they didn't even know it when they bought the property. It was a lobsterman's cabin back in the day. It was so overgrown at the time, it was completely obscured. As Grandpa started clearing the trails, he came upon it. Kinda cool."

"Wow, sweetie! That's fabulous! I can't wait to see it!"

"It really is lovely, Justin." Linds says, pulling a wobbling Gus by his hand from the bathroom. Gus is smiling and breaks free, running full throttle into my legs. 

"So, Deb, what's on the menu?" Ted asks. From what I'm smelling from the kitchen, it's certainly more elaborate than what Justin and I had been planning on serving.

"Baked ziti!" She calls from the other room.

Justin and I look at each other. 'Baked ziti?' we mouth to each other. "Debbie! We don't have any ziti! How did you manage that?"

"I brought a few groceries." She says simply. "I figured you two were probably too busy fucking to actually go to the store. Plus, this storm probably screwed things up for you guys getting out to shop. Let alone Brian getting the shit kicked out of him." She emerges from the kitchen brushing her hands off. "It'll be ready in 20 minutes." Everyone takes a seat in the living room. 

Gus suddenly gets up and wanders over to Hunter of all people. "You're Hunner, right?"

"Yeah, Gus. I'm Hunter."

"Are you married like my Mommies, Daddies and Uncle Mikey and Ben?"

Justin snorts and I wince. 

"Only your Mommies are actually married," Lindsay corrects him.

"Why? I thought Jussin and Daddee were married. They kiss an' hug all the time- more than you and Momma do! They sure act married."

I open my mouth to speak but the look I get from Lindsay stops me cold. "Yes, sweetie, they DO act married, don't they?" She says still holding my stare and cocking an eyebrow. "But they aren't. Not officially." 

Justin squirms beside me, no doubt sure that I'll say something to put down our whatever-it-is we have going. I just sigh and decide it's not worth opening the can of worms any further.

Gus still looks puzzled but he nods. Then he looks back to Hunter, expecting an answer. "No, I'm not married, Gus." He says simply. 

"How old are you?"

"16. Almost 17."

"My Daddee is 33. He's old!" I cough and try to ignore the giggles that erupt around the room. Just then, the timer goes off in the kitchen.

"Lunchtime!" Debbie announces. Shit. I was almost saved by the bell there.


	28. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

 

After lunch and an afternoon of the whole gang sitting around talking about our trip to date, Emmett's catering business, Vic, M*A*S*H (of all things), and a million other topics, Brian and I are finally alone as the new arrivals have cleared out to take naps, settle in and generally recover from their respective road trips. 'The Bruckner's' as Brian affectionately (and sometimes rudely) calls them, have also left for their cabin because it's evident that Brian is pretty tired. Hell, it's obvious that I am too. It's become completely dark outside even though it's only about six, and the few lit candles that were scattered around the house during the day are woefully inadequate now. I busy myself collecting more from the thankfully large stash in the closet. As I place the votives around the room and light them, I glance over at Brian who is dozing on the sofa. He's twitching and a bit fitful, but as beautiful as ever; I go over and pull the throw completely over him to keep him warm, then go to the fireplace and lay another couple of logs onto the dwindling flames. I've been careful not to let the fire go out so he won't have to stoop to lay a fresh one.

"NO!" I'm startled by Brian's sudden scream and my head whips around.

Shit. Shit!

"Brian!" I shout, rushing over and shaking him gently. Another nightmare. 

His eyes open wide. He looks around terrified and then his eyes land on mine. His expression melts into relief. And then anger. "Christ, not again!" 

"It's okay. You were just having a nightmare." 

"Yeah, Justin. I know." He says sarcastically. It's obvious that he's in no mood to talk about it, either. Well, that's a given, I suppose. "I don't want to get into it," he warns.

I nod and smile, trying to hide my concern. This time, I'm not going to push; he's already been through the wringer. "Okay. C'mon. It's dinnertime. Let's make something to eat. Everyone else is in their respective cabin and is on their own. It's just you and me now."

He eyes me a bit suspiciously, but then he relents and nods. He still looks spooked, but I try to ignore it for the moment.

I stand and help him up, trying to avoid looking at the still-angry bruises littering his body. "So, Gus was a blast, wasn't he?" I say, trying to distract him from whatever childhood terror he was just reliving in his mind.

Brian smiles softly at that. "Gus is always a blast..." he says affectionately as he follows me into the kitchen. He grabs me suddenly and turns me towards him. "Justin?" I look up, a little startled. "Sonny Boy likes- loves- you, Sunshine. Thanks for being such a great influence in his life." He leans down to kiss me and I dissolve. I wrap my arms around him hard and I kiss him back passionately. After a moment, he pulls away slightly and looks into my eyes. "I mean it, you know." When it comes to Gus, Brian is like a pod person. I love Brian- and Brian's pod.

I beam at him. "Gus is disgustingly easy to love." I say. "He takes after his father." I add somewhat cautiously.

Brian leans in and nibbles at my earlobe. "Yes, he IS 'disgustingly easy to love'- although, it's more accurate to say that he takes after his fatherS," he whispers, a little shyly. 

When the implication- implicationS- of what Brian just revealed to me sink in, I pull his lips towards mine and kiss him fiercely; I keep my eyes open, watching his lids slide shut as he responds. When we finally part for air, he opens his eyes to see me gazing at him. We look at each other deeply; his eyes are piercing, studying me, searching my soul, reflecting the shifting candlelight and the occasional flicker of lightning. We stay like that for what feels like forever, and it's then that I see all of it; I see everything. I see the intense love, the feral lust, the reluctant but obvious happiness, the guarded but soul-wrenching pain, the incredible fear, the wounded but child-like innocence and the hardened denial - all of it, rising from the battered, beautiful soul of a shattered boy and the slowly healing, shining but tormented soul of the grown man in front of me- all of it emanates clearly from the unwavering intensity of his gaze. Brian. Brian, whose every action screams how much he loves me. Brian, who can't say the words because he's learned from a family which should never have existed that to say 'I love you' is worthless and weak. Brian, a man who I love with such a fervor, I feel my breath catch in my chest. Brian, the man who I am trying to convince is worthy of love. Very much so. And IS loved by everyone in his makeshift family. I see all of this at this very moment and I feel my eyes go wide and my throat constrict.

Brian suddenly looks scared; with decided effort, he looks away. 

And just then, both of our stomachs growl. I smile slightly- for several reasons: our cocks are hard, our stomachs are rumbling, and our souls are quivering all at the same time... our spirits are in tune; and my smile is to let him know that he's safe. It's safe. "Bri?"

He swallows. After a few moments: "BriAN," he says, not meeting my eyes.

I laugh softly. "Brian- BRI-" I add with emphasis as he narrows his eyes and finally looks at me. "How about some leftover baked ziti?" Safe territory. That non-verbal exchange, revelation, was too intense to talk about right now.

He eyes me, staying quiet a few moments. Then he shrugs. "Actually, I think I'd rather just have some soup. I'm cold and some warm soup would be nice. Plus, we just had ziti for lunch- I've filled my quota for carbs."

I snort. "Christ. You and carbs! You're a flippin' twig, Brian- for Chrissakes! Why you even think about that shit..." my voice trails off. Whatever. "We bought some Progresso clam chowder, I think." I walk over to the cabinet and look at the contents. "Yeah- how 'bout that and some of Deb's bread?"

"Carbs, Justin- remember me saying that from about 2 seconds ago? Deb's bread is out of the question."

"Okay. I'll eat from the loaf Deb brought- you can have some of the low-carb shit bread you like so much. "

We're quiet a few moments; I open the can of chowder and pour it into the saucepan. As it warms, I slice some of Debbie's french bread and put the loaf of Brian's 'Carb-Counter' shit onto the table. When I'm done, I turn to see Brian idly watching me as he leans against the cabinets next to the dining room area, his robe in disarray and his pants crumpled.

I go over and wrap my arms around him. We kiss softly. "Do you want to go put on some sweats or something more comfortable?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think so, actually." Normally, he'd say that he'd like to get naked. That he'd like US to get naked. But it's cold in here and he's still hurting. He pulls away and walks into the back where our bedroom is. I sigh and move over to stir the now bubbling chowder. When he comes back, he's fucking sexy as shit in his crap sweatpants and very loose-fitting overshirt. He'd be sexy in a fucking Tu Tu, for Chrissakes. I giggle at the image. 

"What?" He asks somewhat defensively.

"I was just thinking how sexy you are."

"In THIS?" He asks incredulously.

"I was actually thinking how you could be wearing a Tu Tu and still look sexy as hell."

He gets a disgusted look on his face. "A Tu Tu, huh?" Then he leers. "That's kind of kinky, actually."

I laugh and turn back to the chowder. After a minute or two of watching me stir, he opens the loaf of his non-food crap-assed bread and starts nibbling on a slice. 

"Hey, Bri, did you know about Daddy Bear?"

"BriAN. And, of course I did- I gave it to him, Justin."

I roll my eyes. "I KNOW that, Bri. I mean, did you know that he named it DADDY Bear?"

"Christ, Justin- it's BriAN," he huffs. He's suddenly so sensitive about his new nickname for some reason. But then he gets a very cute and bemused look on his face, thinking about my question. "Actually, no, I didn't know that was the bear's name. I knew Gus dragged it around with him everywhere, but he never told me the bear's name. He seems to have developed his own little language when he plays with that dumb toy, so I never understand what he's saying. Linds never told me he called it that until today." He pauses. "I should have known about that, you know? I should be more involved in his life."

"Christ, Brian- you're a great father. Shut up. You know what? The times I babysat him while you were stuck at work, I didn't know what he called the bear either. Like you said, he goes into gibberish mode when he plays with that teddy bear! But I know he's always carried it around everywhere, Brian. And obviously still does."

He shrugs. "I guess you're right, 'Jussin'." He says quietly. 

I smile at him. "Get some bowls, Daddee."

He swats me on the ass. "Don't go there, Sonny Boy. It's borderline gross." He goes to the cabinet to collect a couple bowls and puts them on the counter by the stove. Opening the drawer, he pulls out a couple of spoons and puts them on the table.

"The 'fam' was pretty freaked out with the news of what my father did to you..."

He snorts. "The 'fam' freaks out if someone gets a hangnail."

"They wouldn't drive through this storm in the event of a hangnail, Bri. They're really worried about you."

"Shut up, Justin. And it's BriAN, for crying out loud."

Grinning to myself, I grab a ladel from the little holder by the stove and scoop some chowder into one of the bowls. I ladel chowder into the other bowl and carry the food to the table. Brian comes over and sits across from me. 

We sip in silence for a few moments. He bites off a chunk of his low-carb non-food bread and pauses mid-chew, suddenly pensive and thoughtful. "We should really start talking about Farago, you know...? About moving to New York. It's going to alter your life drastically, Justin... You can change your mind at any time, you know; you should probably stay in the Pitts. You should be with those you love- I don't want to take you away from that, you know."

I stare at him incredulously. After a few moments, I finally swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, okay..."

A flicker of emotion crosses his features but his gaze doesn't waver from mine. He nods. "Okay. Good." He says slowly. He looks down and pushes his spoon around in his chowder.

"Brian."

He looks up at me, his expressionless mask firmly in place.

"You're right. I should be with those I love." He nods again. "Brian, you idiot: that's you and all of your annoying multiple personalities. In New York. With you as you work for Farago Advertising. You fucker."

He holds my stare for at least a minute. "Justin..." he begins.

"Which personality am I talking to right now?" I interrupt. "Which one do I have to convince that I'm going with Brian Kinney to New York?"

He laughs slightly, his shoulders relaxing. "You're talking to Hannibal Lector. Still want to go?"

I grin. "I, too, enjoy a fine Chianti." We both burst out laughing. "And besides, I would love it if you would eat me with some fine Fava beans."

He cocks an eyebrow. "I think that could definitely be arranged... That, or some nice, big fat anal beads..."

I raise an eyebrow in return, feeling my cock jump. "Hm. Hannibal, what a dirty mind you have..."

"Well, me and all the personalities housed in this broken body have dirty minds. You should know that by now- Justin, was it?"

I suppress a laugh. "Actually, I'm Gale. Gale Harold." 

He looks at me quizzically. "Who the fuck is Gale Harold?"

"He's this really hot guy I saw on ShowTime. Some show called Street Time or something. I dunno. He just struck me. So, I'm channeling him at the moment. He actually reminded - reminds- me of you. Same chiselled but soft and beautiful features."

He smirks. "Uh huh. Whatever. Never heard of him. But, since I'm Hannibal, what matters is: does he - er, Gale, do *you* taste good? Because after we finish dinner, I'm gonna eat you out."

My dick is instantly fully hard and my focus blurs momentarily. "Oh yeah..." I breathe. "He tastes good. I taste good, Bri-- er, Hannibal."

Eyebrow cocked, Brian turns his attention back to his chowder and I shift in my seat, trying to relieve the pressure my jeans are now putting on my straining dick. "God, Brian. How do you do that?"

"What?" He asks.

"Get me hard with one sentence?"

He leers at me. "Because you're always one second away from being hard, you dirty little boy. Sometimes all it takes to get you hard is for me to innocently lick my fingers after eating one of your greasy french fries." He rolls his eyes dramatically.

I grin, remembering when that happened at the diner. I had found myself entranced by Brian licking his fingers- he was totally unaware of my reaction. I don't even think he was looking at me- I think he was reading the paper. But I didn't care- I immediately yanked him up out of the booth and pulled him into the bathroom- he was surprised, to say the least. I locked the door behind us and before he could protest, I attacked him. Within seconds it was a blur of fast, furious, rough and fantastic fucking, me pinned against the sink as Brian rammed into me. Needless to say, we were pretty loud- and when we emerged from the bathroom, flushed and smelling like sex, everyone the entire diner stood, applauding and hooting and whistling. 

That little episode earned us both slaps upside the head. You can guess by whom.

Brian cocks an eyebrow at me. "Lost in thought, Sunshine?"

"I was just remembering our standing ovation." My already impossibly stiff cock is twitching at the memory.

"Uh huh." He holds my gaze and dips his finger into the creamy chowder. He raises it to his face, licking the creamy substance off as if it were cum; then he wraps his red lips around it and sucks the tip into his luscious mouth. I'm transfixed. "Ungh." I say stupidly. His eyes flicker wickedly as he watches my reaction. He holds the bowl out to me and I dip my middle finger into the warm, creamy chowder, raising it to his delicious mouth; I watch as his full crimson lips tighten around me, his tongue swirls as he gently laves my finger. He suddenly sucks it hard and deep into his mouth and I gasp. His eyes never leave mine. 

"Fuck!" I breathe trying to will myself not to cum. He trails his tongue up and down my middle finger and finally releases it from his mouth. He has a sexy, seductive smile on his face. Using the finger he just bathed in his own saliva, I trace his lower lip, creating a slick and shiny path. 

"What if I ate my chowder a fingerful at a time?" He asks in a husky voice. "With your fingers...?"

I take a moment to focus on what he's asking. Christ! "By the time you finished, it would be tomorrow and I would have cum in my pants at least 10 times without even touching myself." I whisper hoarsely. And I'm being completely honest. I feel like the first of those times is about to happen right now, I'm so hard. The dampness of my pre-cum soaks my underwear as it weeps freely from the tip of my cock. 

"You, Justin Taylor, have a decided finger fetish- you know that?" He's right, I have to admit it. I do. I feel my cock pulse as I remember our blueberry pie finger fuck. "But as fun as blowing your fingers is, there are much more tasty body parts I'd rather suck. Besides, you cumming 10 times in your pants would be a waste of delicious cum. So, maybe we finish dinner later and go fill up on a different creamy goodness." His lips curl into a sinful grin as he takes my finger into his mouth one more time, sucking on it and guiding it in and out like a cock- and I buckle, gasping.

"Oh GOD!" I yell. 

He looks startled, pulling my finger out of his mouth with a quiet pop. Then it registers and he starts laughing. "You creamed your jeans! Omigod! You haven't done that since you were 17!"

Trying not to blush to the point of looking the color of a baboon's ass, I glare at him; I look down. My cum hasn't started to seep through the thick denim yet but it feels all squishy and kinda gross. 

Brian's giggling uncontrollably - and Brian doesn't 'do' giggling, usually. 

"Brian, shut up! It's not like... it's not like you never..." Well, actually, he's never cum in his pants before. Brian has incredible dick control. "Dammit." I just sit here, helplessly watching him. Despite my embarrassment and how pissed off I am at him at the moment, it's kind of endearing. He looks like Gus when he's in a giggle fit. 

When Brian finally recovers, he wipes his eyes and looks at me, still chuckling. "Aren't you going to go change?"

"Yeah." I huff, standing up. 

"Hey, Justin..." He says, more serious now.

I look at him resentfully.

"Don't feel bad. It's kind of... cute, or something. And kind of hot."

"Yeah. And I'm sure it upped your ego a few pegs, too." I snort.

"When it comes to sex, I don't need ego boosting. Although, it's nice to know I can still affect you like I did the night we met. Remember when you fucking came all over my new duvet? Christ, I was pissed!"

I smile. "Of course I remember that, Bri."

"BriAN."

I chuckle. "BriAN." I say, giving in this time. "Brian, you must know I remember every single second I've spent with you. But the first night I met you and the first morning I woke up to you will be forever etched in my brain- I am absolutely certain that somehow, the memory of those 15 or so hours will survive my own death."

He just smiles a little and idly pushes his bowl away.

"Brian?"

His smile fades and is replaced by a wary look. 

"Don't be wary- it's not bad. I'm just curious if you remember all of that night. You were flying pretty high. Even when you weren't high, you couldn't remember my name."

He rolls his eyes. "Justin, I'm only going to tell you this one time, okay? Of course I fucking remember it! I knew I was taking your virginity- I would never take that lightly no matter who I was with. And it was you. Wasn't it just a few days ago that we were in bed 're-enacting' that first time? And Christ, of COURSE I knew your fucking name- you and Mikey only repeated it to me, what? 1,000 times! And you fucking chose the name of my only child! I ASKED you to!" He pauses. "I don't remember the juggling or doing the handstands, though. Whatever it is that Anita gave me must've really kicked in by that point. But I remember fucking you four times - I was suitably impressed: after your first taste of having a cock up your ass, you were insatiable- even though you were obviously sore. You are the ultimate bottom, Justin. It's like a gift you were born with. A gift to me, I might add." He eyes me. 

"So you were planning on kicking me out, weren't you? It was 'fucking'- not making love..."

"Yes and yes. At the time, yes and yes."

"It wasn't the same for me, you know..." I say quietly. "I loved you the moment I saw you. The very moment. And I never stopped- never..." I admit.

Brian snorts. "Um: what about Ian?"

"Christ, Brian. I wasn't in love with Ethan. I cared about him, but you told me yourself that you recognized what the fuck was going on there: he said the words. I had somehow stopped being able to hear the infamous Kinney-nonspeak."

Brian looks at me with complete confusion. 

"Nevermind. It's something Michael and I defined one night at Woody's. Anyway, the story was and has always been about Brian and Justin; Ethan was a secondary character, a complication that was meant to be overcome. Killed off. A plot point."

"Sunshine..." he pauses. "WHAT are you talking about?"

I smile. "As I said, nevermind. Just, accept this: there was never and will never come to be a reason for me not to be with you. We're soulmates, Bri..."

"--AN. BriAN." 

I snicker. "We're soulmates, Brian. That's why we seem to always know what the other is thinking. That's why we know what the other wants or needs in bed (or wherever it is we're doing it...). That's why we pick the fights we do and avoid the ones we don't. That's why we push when we should, no matter the pain that results, and why we know when pushing isn't the way to go. It's why, even when I was with Ethan, I dreamt of you constantly; called your name in the middle of the night as I've told you-- royally pissing Ethan off; it's why, when I woke up with nightmares, craving your comforting arms around me, I'd end up curled in on myself imagining you there, an oblivious Ethan beside me, snoring as I shivered the night away; it's why, when he would touch me, I'd shudder because he wasn't you; because it wasn't your touch..." I pause. "It's why I will never have anyone's cock up my ass but yours, Brian. I have never bottomed for anybody but you..."

During my little confessional, I've watched his expression go from sarcasm to anger to relief to silent but overt love- and just now, to surprise. "You never...?"

"No, Brian." I pause. There's always been something metaphoric about Brian being the only one I'll bottom for; because the only cock I want in my ass is the one that I know is the only cock that can make me cum by looking at it. At him. The only one that, fuck it, I truly love. Belonging to the only one I truly love. The fucker. 

"It's why I looked for you in every face I saw outside of his apartment." I pause. "It's why I'd find myself curled up with his fucking cat Wolfram because the cat offered me more comfort and love than the human being I was sharing a bed with, even though he bought me flowers, chocolates, Hallmark cards saying 'I love you', a RING, even- all the things I wanted to get from you. Or so I thought- to be honest, I think I'd freak out if you did any of that now. Yeah, I'd curl up with the damned cat because I'd already known, had, experienced, lived, loved and fallen in love with the Best. And I was still in the same damned place as far as my feelings for Brian Kinney were concerned. A lot of other shit had changed. Has changed. But as much as I loved you before, Brian: I know how deep it goes now. This isn't a crush, a short-termed love affair, an infatuation... Brian: sorry, but I'm here to stay."

His mouth is slightly open as he listens to my revelation. I watch him as he assimilates what I'm saying; I'm a little scared as to what his reaction will be.

"Justin," he says quietly. "Justin... you know me. I don't let people in. The Kinney House of Horror taught me not to trust, love, or any of that other shmaltzy shit. I developed rules- you've heard them plenty of times. I still kneejerk to adhere to them, as you know. Back in the beginning, I pushed you away as hard as I could but it was like throwing a superball against the wall. You just kept bouncing back, often hitting me in the balls when you did." His voice is low and hushed. "Debbie once confronted me about you. It was awhile ago. Told me how you'd gotten under the wire. Told me that I loved you."

I inhale sharply.

"We were at Woody's. The bitch wouldn't shut up." He looks at me, tormented. "I hate it when she's..." his voice trails off and he doesn't finish.

"...right?" I whisper, completing his sentence. 

He blinks and says nothing. My heart flip flops. Christ. 

"Whatever," he says, recovering his facade. "I guess I'm saying that I'm glad you're like a superball. Even if you are all over the place. And even if you keep rebounding into my nads."

My mouth is hanging open as I listen to all of this. I'm so touched I find myself having to bite my cheek to keep from tearing up. It's not working, either.

"Justin, you better go change before that cum in your pants dries and the fabric gets too stiff for you to move... And quit weeping. You're losing too many bodily fluids."

I stare at him a few moments, blink, and go to change- all the time thinking what a fucking lucky shit I am.


	29. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

 

I chuckle as I watch Justin sheepishly walk into the back to our bedroom to change his pants after cumming spontaneously in his jeans. It's actually kind of nice to know I still affect him like that. I gather the bowls from the table and load them into the dishwasher. 

Justin emerges from the shadows with a fresh pair of sweats on and a somewhat embarrassed smirk on his face. "Wipe that smug expression off your face, Bri." He snorts.

"BriAN, Justin." For some reason, 'Bri' is rubbing me the wrong way all of a sudden. Too cozy or something. I don't know. "And I deserve to look a little smug, thank you very much."

He just huffs and washes his hands. "Fine. Be a jerk."

I smile inwardly and reach for him, pulling him into a hug. "So, finger-fetish boy, you up for more?" I feel his already hard cock against my thigh and raise an eyebrow. "It would appear that the answer to that is a decided yes." I say, reaching down and giving his dick a squeeze. 

"Bri- ugh... Bri....." He gasps as I massage his cock through his sweats.

"Yes, Sunshine?" I breathe, my lips inches from his ear. "And for the last time, it's BriAN." I add.

He pushes my hand away from his cock and snorts. "It's 'Bri', Brian. And quit teasing me."

"I'm not teasing." I say, grabbing the waistband of his sweats and pulling him towards the back of the house to the bedroom. "You've gotten off, but I haven't had the pleasure." I push him onto the bed and climb over him, kissing him ferociously. My dick is as hard as a rock and Justin is in for a rough ride. Well, as rough as I can manage, being as battered as I am.

"Can you...? But you're still so hurt..." Justin says quietly as I pull off his sweats, followed by my own. 

"I'm certainly planning on trying my damnedest." I answer. "Roll over. Now."

Justin quickly rolls over and sticks his gorgeous ass in the air. I plant a sloppy kiss on his shoulder blade and work my way down his back. I snuff into his crack, loving the musky scent that is uniquely Justin. I lick and kiss and tongue his hole, fucking him with my mouth as deeply as I can. 

"Ahhh... Gahd... Fuuuck!" He moans as my tongue delves into him till my nose is flush with his crack. "Brii..." 

I pull my tongue out and he whimpers in protest. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" I push my middle finger into his asshole and brush his prostate, causing him to buck against me. I insert another finger, then another and he starts fucking himself on my hand. "More, Brian! More!" I cock an eyebrow and withdraw my fingers. He groans at the loss, but I have something else in mind. I go to my suitcase and pull out a string of anal beads that I picked up before we left the Pitts. His eyes open wide when he sees them.

"Those are huge!" He exclaims.

"Uh huh." I say simply. "Ready, little boy?" I feel my cock swaying as I position myself behind him and I look down at his widened, spit covered hole. I push the first bead into his ass and his hole closes around it greedily. "Like that, do we?" I breathe, pushing in the second and third beads.

"More..." He gasps, leaning his ass towards me. I shove the next four into his hole and he takes them all. "More..." he insists. I smile. Justin is the ultimate bottom. He never fails to impress me. I push three more in- there are only a couple left and they dangle from his saliva-shined asshole enticingly. I thrust one more in. "Aughhh..." Justin exhales at the intrusion. "God. Oh God." I reach around and begin to stroke his cock, then I begin to pull the beads from his asshole one by one, each making a wet popping noise. "FUCK!" He screams. I pull the last one out and look at his widened opening. 

"Ready for me, Sunshine?"

"Stop stroking me! I'm going to cum!"

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" But I stop stroking him and slip on a condom.

 

"No lube." He says.

I toss the lube aside and position my cock, pushing in with one swift stroke. "Ahhhhhh... God!" 

"No, it's just me; the name's Brian." I say, ramming into him repeatedly. I fuck him roughly, hitting his prostate with every thrust. I feel him cum within minutes, his ass clenching my dick as his orgasm rips through his body. I yell as I feel myself going over the edge as well, shooting into the condom, wave upon wave of cum spurting out of me, washing back on my cock. 

"Christ!" He exclaims.

"No. Again: it's just me, Brian." He turns his head to grace me with a smirk. I rub my hand over his sweaty back before reluctantly withdrawing. 

"Mmmmmmmmm." He moans. "I wish you could fuck me raw."

I startle at that. "Justin..."

"I know. I know. But it's been months since you've tricked, Bri."

"It would have to be a year. And I don't see that happening." Although, I DO see that happening, I admit to myself. And that freaks me the fuck out. When did Brian Kinney mutate into such a lesbian? Fucking Justin raw, though... I'm getting hard all over again just thinking about it.

"It's been like, 6 months, Bri... If you could hold out, don't you think it'd be hotter'n fucking shit?"

I don't say anything as I discard the condom.

"Bri?"

"BriAN. And we'll talk about it later."

He grins and notices my hardening cock. "You want to do it raw too! Look at you! You're harder than I am!"

"I'm young and virile, that's all."

He smirks. "Yeah." He breathes, stroking himself. "So am I."

"Justin." I growl. 

His eyes are heavy-lidded with lust and he licks his lips as he watches me masturbate. "Brian... 69... I want to taste you."

I raise an eyebrow. One thing about Justin is that he'll do just about anything when it comes to sex- and I can honestly say that I adore that about him. "I'll have to be the one on the bottom." I say, gesturing at my fucking bruises.

"Brian Kinney: on the bottom? I never thought I'd hear you say something like that." He teases.

"Twat." I say, laying on my back. He positions himself over me, his cock in my face. "Watch it!" I warn, as he almost pokes my eye. A few drops of pre-cum dribble onto my face and I reach up, wiping them away and licking the fluid off my fingers. I grab his dick and pull it into my watering mouth as I feel my cock sink into the warm recess of Justin's eager mouth. 

Christ, he tastes so good. 

He begins thrusting into my face and I relax my throat to accommodate him; he expertly fucks my cock with his mouth and I feel my balls tighten. I feel him moan over my dick and I can tell he's close. I reach up and finger his crack before shoving my thumb into his hole. He shivers and I'm rewarded with him flooding my mouth with cum as I feel myself go momentarily blind as I shoot into Justin's sucking, hungry mouth. After a moment, Justin crawls around and lays next to me. "That didn't last long..." he grins at me. "And God, you taste so good." 

"Finger-lickin' good?" 

He laughs. "Yeah, you taste finger-lickin' good." 

"We should go out and listen to the radio for a little while. See if we're gonna get any relief from this storm. We only have a few days left here, and it's been storming for almost the whole time."

He frowns. "Yeah. Bri-" I shoot him a look. "BriAN, I'm really sorry about this. All of this. Maine is a special place to me. I wanted it to be the same for you. Instead, we get trapped on an island in a storm, my father shows up and beats you up, you find out about Michael and his perpetual crush, you've been trapped in this house for days with no power, you've fucking had horrific nightmares reliving your horrible childhood, you've--"

"Justin." I interrupt. "Stop it."

He just looks at me, the sorrow and love shining painfully in his eyes. "But, I'm sorry--"

"We all know how I feel about apologies." I interject. "Plus, I've also spent time with you, been compared to a tall, awkward water bird, seen a disgustingly beautiful sunset and rainbow, seen Ben and Mikey make up or whatever it is they did, fucked a goddamned pie, spent time with my son- oh- and put out a dumpster fire, earning me the dubious title of 'hero'," he laughs softly at that. "Sunshine, while this has been a wild and wooly experience, we've... we've... it's been... we've..." Christ. I'm rarely speechless. 'It's been important. We've learned a lot about each other. You've heard a lot about me, Sunshine; and you didn't bolt at the horrors you learned about my childhood. We've become closer than I ever imagined possible.' I think all of this. And I want to say it, but I can't bring myself to utter the words.

"We've become closer than either of us ever imagined possible." Justin whispers, echoing my thoughts exactly. Again with the mindreading. I look into his eyes which are now shimmering with unshed tears. 

"That, and you've cried more in 4 days than I think I've ever seen you." 

"Well, I've learned about some pretty fucking scary shit that's happened to you, Bri."

I don't bother to correct him, silently resigning myself to accepting my new nickname. "I know, Justin. I'm sorry about that." I say quietly, looking away. I feel his hand on my cheek, gently pulling me back to look at him.

"Brian, don't be sorry- sorry's bullshit- and none of it is your fault. It kills me that you feel like you did something wrong. That you feel like you somehow deserved what that fucking shit of a father did to you. You didn't." I look down, avoiding his eyes again. "Brian, look at me, dammit! You didn't deserve any of the shit your family did to you!" I'm startled a bit and look at him. "You didn't! The only thing about your family that I'm thankful for is that your mother was a cowardly Catholic- still is- and wouldn't get an abortion!" 

The anger in his voice is a little surprising and I suck in a breath. "Jesus, Justin. Down, boy." I mutter.

Justin huffs and rolls onto his back, exasperated. 

"Listen, drop it, okay? Let's have at least one moment in Maine that isn't fraught with drama." 

Justin sighs, staying silent.

After a few moments I glance over at him. "How about some dessert?" I ask simply.

He looks at me shocked. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Has the world shifted on its axis? Did you just suggest dessert? You? Brian Kinney?" He looks positively aghast.

"What? I had blueberry pie the other night. C'mon." I get up and pull on my robe. "We can eat while we listen to the radio." I don't mention that all I'm going to have is fruit, but I like the effect my suggestion has had on Sunshine. He's still staring at me like I've mutated into a lesbian. He just shakes his head, gets up and walks with me into the kitchen. I glance at the clock radio and see that it's about 8. "So, you think this storm is going to let up before we have to leave?"

"It better."

"Well, if the others made it through the storm in their cars, we can always drive."

"It's a good 15 hour drive."

"I know. God, I still can't believe everyone fucking drove up here. And through this shit." It really does give me pause to realize that they all came up because Ben and Mikey spilled that I was hurt. Weird. Maybe the earth HAS shifted off its axis.

"Well, I'm not surprised." Justin says, pulling the pie from the refridgerator. Which, really, is just another cabinet now, since the power's been out for so long. Although we've been sparing in opening it, so it's still keeping the food cool. Doesn't matter much; the fucking cabin is cold enough to keep food fresh. I reach in behind him and grab an apple. He snorts. "I should have known- dessert for you means a fucking piece of fruit. You gotta learn to live a little."

"I think I live pretty well, Sunshine." Yeah. Despite it all- the fucked childhood, the nightmares, the lack of a job, living in the Pitts, the weird friends, the even weirder partner... despite all of it, I live pretty damned well, I think to myself as I look at the back of Justin's head. Damned well.


	30. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

 

We sit at the table, ignoring the storm that is still - unbelievably- raging outside. I'm eating a slice of blueberry pie and Bri's -er, BriAN's- munching on his apple. Fucking carb-phobic freak. "So," I say after a few minutes of relative silence, "are you nervous?"

He looks at me, confused. "Nervous?"

"Yeah, about moving to New York. About starting a new job. It'll be your first time out of the Pitts."

He smirks. "No, I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous? I'm excellent at what I do."

I roll my eyes. Modest he ain't, even if he IS right. "Still, it's new. Different. And you hate change."

Brian scoffs at me. "Since when do I hate change? I love change. Ever since I moved out of the Kinney House of Horror to go to Carnegie Mellon, I've loved change. Ever since I got my first internship, ever since I got my first promotion, ever since you waltzed into my life and fucked everything up-" I snort at that; "-ever since I stomped Stockwell, ever since I lost my job, ever since I came up into this godforesaken, dismal, storm-ridden state-- I've loved change."

"Bull. You hate it. You like routine." And he does. For the most part.

"Believe what you want, but the answer is: no, I'm not nervous. Plus, the men in New York are hotter than in the Pitts."

I think about that; about Brian tricking again. He hasn't for months now- mostly because he's been somewhat subdued after losing his job, getting hurt in the car wreck, and now- well, now, because he's stuck in a cabin in Maine. Hurt yet again. "So... you're going to start tricking again..." It's more of a statement than a question.

He eyes me warily. "Justin, we aren't fucking married. We aren't fucking monogamous. We aren't breeders."

I sigh. "I know." Really, the tricking doesn't bother me anymore, to be honest. I know now that it has nothing to do with me- that the tricks mean nothing to Brian. And that I'm no trick. Far from it, actually. But I really want him to fuck me raw. And he refuses to do that. He says you have to be monogamous a year and tested regularly before fucking without a condom is safe. A year. That's a tall order for Brian Aiden Kinney. A really tall order. "It's been 6 months or so since you've tricked though, Bri. I really want to feel you cum in my ass. Feel your cum leak out of me..." I raise an eyebrow at him suggestively. "Feel your naked cock pulse in my hole, filling me with your load; feel your juices seeping down my ball sac." 

His eyes cloud over momentarily and he clears his throat. When in doubt, go for the sex talk with this guy. Then he shakes his head to regain his focus. "Yeah, well, give yourself an enema and you'll get the same sensation." He replies tersely.

"That's not the same at all, Bri. I want to feel you, Brian. Not warm water. I want your cum in my ass. I want to feel you cum in my hole and then feel you eat me out, lapping and tonguing your spunk from me."

That really gets him and his eyes completely glaze over. Then he snaps out of it, clearly frustrated. "Justin, it's not safe."

"In 6 months, it will be."

"Christ, Justin. As I said before, we'll talk about it later." He shifts in his seat, undoubtably because he's hard. And that, coupled with his answer, gives me hope that he'll do it. That he'll wait. That he won't trick. At least temporarily.

I grin at him. "You're hard, aren't you?" Hell- I sure as fuck am...

"None of your business." He grumbles.

"You are. You've got a stiffie thinking of ramming your bare cock deep into my ass; thinking of emptying your balls into my warm tunnel; thinking of shoving your skilled tongue into my hole to lick and suck out your own cum," I tease- getting myself incredibly turned on as I imagine what I'm saying.

"Shut it, Justin. I'm not in the mood."

"Like hell you aren't," I say, peering over the table into his lap. "Boyscouts could camp under that tent you're sporting!"

He rolls his eyes and shifts again. "Fine. I'm hard. So what?"

"So, we just just fucked twice- the last time not 10 minutes ago- and talking about you fucking me raw has you all worked up again."

"As I said before, I'm young and virile..." he mutters.

"Let's--" I'm interrupted by a loud knock at the back door behind me. We both startle. I glance at the clock. 8:10.

"Fuck! What now?" Brian groans, getting up and pulling his robe tightly around him- both in an effort to keep warm and to hide his obvious boner. He goes to the back door and opens it violently, stepping back as the rain blows in. "WHAT?" He yells, squinting into the deluge. Then he groans as Hunter breezes past him.

"I'm not staying, gorgeous. Ben just wanted me to bring you some bread he baked. Word of warning: watch it-- he put in all these herbs and grasses and shit." He places what's obviously rosemary bread on the counter. "He said to say thank you to you, Brian. Didn't say for what. Must be for letting us stay in this stormy hell hole. He's such a freak."

Brian and I glance at each other, knowing full well that Ben is thanking Brian for his talk the other night when Brian convinced him not to leave Michael; Ben was thinking of leaving Michael because he feels like he's getting sick- and he didn't want to put his lover through the pain of watching him waste away. Personally, Ben looks fine to me, but apparently his viral load is fucked up. Anyway, Brian told him that Michael would want to be there for him no matter what. And he took Brian at his word.

Hunter looks at us and then shakes the rainwater from his hair. "He made me go out in this shit in the dark to get it to you while it's still warm. So you better eat it now."

I snort. "Yeah. Brian eating carbs after 7? I don't think so."

Brian gives me a snarky look. "Tell Ben thanks, Hunter." He says, turning his attention back to the boy. 

"Hey. Since I'm here, you want to play cards or something?"

Brian laughs. "Um, Jimmy dear, I don't think so."

"C'mon! Some Gin Rummy? Black Jack? Bridge?"

"You need four people to play Bridge." I say, suddenly aware that I'm showing my country club background.

Brian rolls his eyes, ignoring me. "Hunter, no."

Hunter seems to get that Brian isn't going to budge, so he shrugs and leans in towards Bri as if he's going to kiss him. Brian gets a horrified look and backs away. "Christ, Hunter. Go home." He huffs, his exasperation obvious. "I thought Ben talked to you about all this! Many times!"

"So? And you can't blame me for trying, sexy." Hunter leers.

"Yeah, I can. Get lost, punk. Be sure to tell Ben thanks." Brian mutters, opening the back door. Hunter grins and pulls his slicker tight around him before he ducks out the door.

Brian looks at me apologetically. I wave it off. "That was relatively tame for Hunter." I laugh. And it was; I don't let it bug me.

He looks relieved, glad I'm not making a big deal out of it. Hell, it's not like it's Brian's fault. The kid just won't give up. "Well, he certainly cured me of my hard-on."

I go into the kitchen and give Brian a peck on the cheek. "We all know that's easily fixed." I whisper.

He licks his lips and looks at me. "Yeah..." he whispers back.

"But first, I want some of this bread!" I announce, turning away from him and towards the counter. 

He snorts. "Cock tease. You and food. It's perverted; and not in a good way. I swear." 

I ignore him as I pull some butter out of the fridge and set to removing the still-warm bread from the pan. "Mmmmmm... Brian, smell it! C'mon- have some! I'll cut you a really thin slice."

"No."

"Brian, c'mon. I dare you."

"I didn't pick dare. I picked truth."

I roll my eyes, smirking at the memory of our little impromptu game with Michael on Folly Island several days ago. Brian'd been horrified by Michael's suggestion to play 'truth or dare' to pass the time while the storm raged. "Fine. Then tell me the truth- do you want some of this?" I put the loaf under his nose so he can't help but smell it.

He stares me in the eyes, ignoring the rosemary bread in his face. "Yeah," he finally admits. "Fine. Cut me a slice. A THIN one."

I grin at him. "Brian, you should eat the whole loaf. You're too skinny."

"Shut up, Justin. I am not." 

And he's right. He's perfect. Still, grinning, I take out a cutting board and slice off a couple of inch-thick hunks and butter them, my mouth watering as I watch the butter melt into the pores. "This would be good to dunk into flavored olive oil, to eat with a big-ass plate of nice, hot lasagna." 

"The carbs... the carbs!" He mutters, echoing the dying adventurer Kurtz's words in Joseph Conrad's book, 'Heart of Darkness'- but Kurtz had said 'The horror... the horror!' I snicker; obviously to Brian, the number of carbs in my fantasy meal is pretty horrific. I hand him his slice and watch as he scrunches his nose. "I can't believe I'm eating this." But he takes a bite and I grin as he chews.

I take a bite of my slice; "Good, isn't it?" I say as I nibble on the crust. "Especially because it's still warm."

"What is this shit, anyway? Hunter wasn't kidding- it's full of plant matter."

"It's rosemary. It's an herb."

He looks at me like I'm nuts. "I may not be good in the kitchen- but I know what rosemary is, Sunshine. I've listened to Simon and Garfunkel."

I snort. "First of all, just because you've heard 'Scarborough Fair/Canticle', that doesn't make you an expert on herbs. You just know of parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Secondly, YOU'VE listened to Simon and Garfunkel???" This strikes me as out of character for Brian and I'm truly surprised.

He eyes me. "Yeah. So?"

"'The Dangling Conversation'? 'Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall'? 'Homeward Bound'? 'Sounds of Silence'? 'I Am A Rock'? THAT Simon and Garfunkel?" I ask incredulously.

"Yes, THAT Simon and Garfunkel... why is that so hard to believe? Jesus- 'I Am A Rock' was practically the theme song to my life for 29 years."

I take a moment and think about the lyrics to that song...  
**********************************  
I Am A Rock 

A winter's day in a deep and dark December-   
I am alone, gazing from my window to the streets below   
on a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow, I am a rock, I am an island. 

I've built walls, a fortress deep and mighty that none may penetrate.   
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain.   
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain, I am a rock, I am an island. 

Don't talk of love- well, I've heard the word before, it's sleeping in my memory.   
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died,   
if I never loved I never would have cried, I am a rock, I am an island.

I have my books and my poetry to protect me. I am shielded in my armor.   
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb, I touch no one and no one touches me.   
I am a rock, I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain and an island never cries.

***************************************************

And it IS like a theme song for Brian. It's Brian's philosophical outlook on life put to beautiful, sad music; a philosophical outlook Brian developed growing up in a family that was so fucked up it's nearly unbelievable. 

And he's 33. The fact that he said it was the theme song to his life until he was 29- the age he was when we met under that street lamp- is not lost on me. In typical Justin-in-Maine fashion, I well up. "I guess it just seems like you wouldn't like such sentimental music... you know- it's beautiful. And you don't listen to..." Then I remember that he put on Vaughn Williams' 'The Lark' that first night we were here. I quickly swipe my eyes, feeling hot tears threatening to fall.

"Aw, Christ. What are you all weepy about now?" Brian says, tossing the half slice of rosemary bread he has left into the trash. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into the living room and he sits me on the sofa, then goes over, wincing as he tosses another log on the fire. He comes back, sits next to me, and looks at me expectantly. "Well? What's wrong? Is it just that I listen to Simon and Garfunkel...? God, just about ANYthing will set you off, it seems. What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just... well, it's a few things." I admit.

"Will I want to kill you if you tell me what they are?" He asks warily.

I smile a little through my tears. That's such a Kinney-nonspeak thing for him to say- he's worried about me and why I'm suddenly so upset. But he'd never say something that intimate and 'lesbionic', as he'd put it. "Maybe."

He groans. "Well, let's just see then. What's going on? A few minutes ago, you were fucking making me eat bread and being an ass. Now you're weeping like a mother watching her child leave for college."

"It's just that 'I Am A Rock' is such a... such a sad song. And it really does fit you- before, I mean. You aren't like that now. But God, Brian, you really were an island; you built walls around yourself- letting no one in. You learned from a family that you tried to love that all love does to you is make you cry and hurt. You... well, you were a rock." I say quietly. "All you had was Michael." 

"Oh, FUCK this! Christ, Justin! You are so melodramatic..."

"And... I don't know if you realize that you said that 'I Am A Rock' was the theme song of your life for 29 years. You're 33. You met me when you were 29. Maybe I'm reading into it, but..."

"Oh, lord..." Brian looks very uncomfortable and moderately pissed.

"Never mind, Bri. Really- it all just struck me. Forget it." I look down at the bread I'm still holding. It's gotten cold, I notice. I toss it onto the coffee table, no longer hungry.

He sighs. "Taylor, you are really pushing me hard this trip. On everything. And this is supposed to be a vacation. You've been pointing out, crying over, harping on all these things that I inadvertently say or don't say. Or things that you push me to reveal. I really don't think I can keep this up. That song- 'I Am A Rock'- it still applies in a lot of ways in my life. Yes, I've changed over the last few years; yes, a lot has changed since I met you... but I'm not fucking Bob Saget. Or Al Bundy, even. I'm not a fucking husband. I'm no lesbian. I'm Brian Kinney, Justin. I've fucked, sucked and been sucked by almost every gay, undecided and supposedly straight man in Pittsburgh. I was- until relatively recently- a great success in advertising. And men and women both want me, for whatever reason. But sometimes, I still feel like a rock, an island... less so... But it's still..." he swallows. "It's still my theme song, sometimes." He pauses. "Quit staring at me, Justin."

"Oh. Uh..." I've been gazing at him without realizing it until this moment. 

Then he laughs bitterly. "You'll get a kick out of this: you know what the theme song for me was after you left with Ian at the Rage party?" He pauses. "About 9 months ago...?"

"Still Simon and Garfunkel?"

He nods.

I think over all the songs that would possibly be apropos after that fiasco. I can't think of what would it would be. "'April Come She Will'?"

He shakes his head.

"'The Dangling Conversation'?"

He looks at me oddly. "How would that apply?"

"I dunno- cut me some slack here. I'm trying." I think for a few more minutes, flipping through songs and lyrics in my head. Then it dawns on me. "Oh, God, Brian. 'Cecilia'." I recite the lyrics to myself and feel my heart sink.

***************************************************  
Cecilia 

Celia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily.   
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please, to come home.   
Celia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily.   
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please, to come home, come on home.

Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia up in my bedroom.   
I got up to wash my face, when I come back to bed, someone's taken my place.

Celia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence daily.   
Oh Cecilia, I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please, to come home, come on home.

Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I'm laughing.   
Jubilation, she loves me again, I fall on the floor and I'm laughing. 

**********************************************************

Brian doesn't say anything or nod or acknowledge me at all. He just stands up, wincing slightly, and goes to toss the bread I left on the table in the garbage. 

"Well, at least the song has the same happy ending that we did." I say quietly.

He snorts. "At the time, I hated the ending to that song."

"Did you actually sit down to think about finding a song that would describe your life at the time?" I ask, thinking it very un-Brian-like to sit around searching for a song that would reflect his situation.

"Christ, no. I'm not a geek. I heard it in the car on my way to Mikey's the day after the party. I was in a mellow mood and didn't feel like listening to techno shit. I wish I'd never turned the radio on at all. I couldn't get that fucking song out of my head for a week." He laughs ironically. "I always find a way to kick myself when I'm down, y'know?"

I stand up and go over to him, a little more than shocked at how open he's being right now. "I'm sorr--"

"Justin, drop it. That lovely chapter of our lives is over. Let it be dead."

I bite my lip, thinking how he was the one who actually brought it up- very oddly enough, at that. But I keep my mouth shut and wrap my arms around him, gently pulling him into a hug. I feel so terrible about that 'lovely chapter of our lives', I want to scream. But instead, I simply hug the man I have always loved and will always love more than my own life, hoping that he knows how sorry I am for hurting him. Hoping he knows the depth of my love for him. After a few moments, he puts his arms around me and returns the embrace; I lean my cheek against his strong chest, giving him a soft squeeze, wary of his bruises and sore ribs. "I love you, Brian."

"Shut up, Justin. You fucking twat." Brian says, though there's no venom in his voice; just fatigue and a touch of resignation. "Quit trying to turn me into a lezzie." He adds.

"God forbid." I reply, smiling and leaning against his body. "You're not anywhere CLOSE to turning into a lezzie. Now, as far as being an asshole- THAT'S a different story..." He swats my butt and draws back to lean down for a kiss.

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?" He whispers before kissing me deeply.


	31. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

 

After a mere -but hot and very heavy - make-out session, Justin and I turn in at around 10, both of us exhausted, and we fall asleep almost immediately. The last thoughts in my mind have to do with his 'fuck me raw' talk from earlier in the day - which, at least at first, provides fodder for some very- VERY- pleasant dreams. But next thing I know, Justin is shaking me awake, calling my name- and I hear a terrified scream-- and I suddenly realize that it's my own. "What the fuck?" I mumble after a few moments, dazed. 

"Another nightmare." Justin says, gripping my arm; the panic is evident in his hushed voice. I look over and his expression is of overt fear and concern. "Bri... Brian, are you alright? What...?"

I shiver involuntarily as I remember the dream I was just having- or, more accurately, the nightmarish memory I was just reliving. Justin holds me close. "You don't--" I stop mid-sentence, another shudder wracking my body. Fuck this! Fuck Jack Kinney!

"--want to know." Justin finishes for me. "Yes I do. Christ, Brian. That was as bad as the other night. You were so frightened." He pauses, anguished. "You... what you went through..." his voice trails off. "What were you dreaming about this time?"

Shit, he does NOT want to know. He's heard plenty. Why all this shit is haunting me right now confuses me. I think it's because of Justin's father showing up and jumping me. And probably even moreso because he hurt Justin emotionally. That, plus Justin pushing me to tell him about my childhood. Fucker. 

I look into Justin's eyes, and they convey such tenderness and love that I want to turn away. "Brian... I want to know everything about you..." his voice trails off again. 

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut - the dream stays in the forefront of my consciousness, even as I try to will it away. I feel Justin's hand caress my cheek and I blink my eyes open. "Sunshine, no you don't. You don't want to know." That's all I'll say.

Justin nods and wisely stays quiet, but there's a pained, scared look in his eyes that bothers me. 

"Justin..." I venture, but I can't think of anything to say. The images from my nightmare play out in my head and I shiver again.

"What happened, Brian...? What happened to you? What were you dreaming about this time? What did Jack do...?" He asks very quietly. Almost timidly.

I shake my head. "No. No." I look at him briefly. "No." I say once more, with finality.

"Brian; Brian, let me in."

"NO!" I'm a little surprised at how vehement I sound, but goddammit, I don't need this shit! I ignore the pain in my body as I tear myself out of bed and stand, stalking off into the kitchen in search of a lone bottle of wine. Fuck this all to hell. I feel and hear Sunshine behind me. I swing around and grab the corkscrew, glancing at him. Then I look over at the clock. 6:45 AM. It's then that I notice that the rain and thunder have diminished somewhat. Fabulous: a distraction! Something to get Sunshine off my back. "Turn on the radio."

"What?"

"Turn on the radio!"

"Wha... why?"

"Listen."

Justin pauses, his brow furrowing a moment before it dawns on him. "The storm! Oh my God, the storm is dying down!" Justin reaches over and flips the switch on the battery-run radio.

"...In other news, it seems we will be having a temporary reprieve from the catastrophic storm that has been rocking the eastern seaboard to its very foundation. Meteorologists are saying that it is moving out to sea, although they are warning that there are many indications that it will be pushed back towards land tomorrow due to a high pressure front that is moving in from the west. We urge listeners to be cautious before venturing outside as this storm is still a threat..."

"Turn it off." I say.

"But..."

"We need to get out of here while the storm's offshore."

"Brian, we have three more days..."

"Justin, get real. If this storm isn't over for good, we should leave while we can. Which is now."

Justin turns off the radio. "No." 

Christ. "Yes. Pack. Now."

"But, you said yourself that we could get out of here even if the storm was still raging- after all, everyone else made it here while it was."

"I said that, yes. That doesn't mean that I WANT to drive through this shit."

"Brian--"

"We're leaving." I stomp into the bedroom and begin to pack, my mood still for shit because of that God-awful dream. Justin eventually wanders into the room, pouting. "Stop that. You look like Gus in one of his childish snits." I snap.

"It's just... I don't want to go. I want you to talk to me."

"Justin, I've talked enough for a lifetime. It sucks, it hurts, and I don't want to talk anymore. So fuck off!" I hear an edge to my voice that I don't like and I clear my throat.

"You scared me, Brian. You're scaring me now. Your nightmare was bad. Really bad." He says softly. "And I told you, I'd only ask you about what happened to you if you had another nightmare."

I shove a shirt into the fucking duffle bag as I feel my anger peak. "Justin- fuck you! I don't want to go into it! Leave me alone! Just leave me the FUCK alone!!" I yell, still reliving the memory of Jack beating me into a bloody pulp- a very bloody pulp; I'm seething. I leave the bag and shove Justin aside to exit the room. But I push too hard and inadvertently knock him against the door jamb; he bumps into it violently, his head snapping to the side and cracking against the wood. 

And I'm mortified. 

"JUSTIN!" I cry out, reaching over to hold him up. He looks a little dazed.

"I'm... I'm okay, Bri..." he manages, shaking his head slightly and bringing his hand up to his forehead. 

I pull him to me, muttering a million apologies and kissing him over and over. "God, Justin. Oh God. Oh God. Sunshine. I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! My God! What have I done?"

"It's okay, Brian. I'm alright." He leans against me, wrapping his arms around my torso gently. "Really."

I pull back, hold him by his arms and inspect his head; fuck! There's a small cut near where Hobbs clobbered him. "Justin, Christ! You're bleeding! Jesus! I... I..." and I can't find the words to express how horrible I feel. How sorry I am. 

But.

But, then I do. 

I find the perfect words. 

And they make my very soul shiver in terror: 

"I'm just like fucking Jack." I hear myself whisper. "Oh, no. Oh, God." I choke out. "I'm just like Jack Kinney." I feel like I'm going to vomit; there's an inhuman and panicky quality to my voice that I've never heard before. From me or from anybody else. Ever. It scares me.

Justin's crying full-on. "You are not like your fucking sick fuck of a father, Brian!" Justin says vehemently, jarring me.

"Yes. Yeah. I am. I'm my father's son."

"Oh, fuck, Brian! Shut up! You aren't!"

I ignore him, noting the trickle of blood trailing down his cheek, and I gently pull him into the bathroom; I grab a washcloth and carefully dab the blood from his face and from the wound. The wound that I fucking inflicted.

Justin is looking at me intently, tears dripping from his cheeks. "Did you hear me?" He asks pointedly. "This was an accident!"

I shudder as I place a band-aid on the cut, the nightmare I just had looming in my mind. And the waking nightmare I just had looms larger- that I'm fucking Jack Patrick Aiden Kinney. Fuck. I'm just like my sack of shit father! I shake my head and collapse in horror, crumpling onto the bathroom floor, burying my face in my hands. "Jesus. Jesus Christ. Justin, I am so sorry. I am so... I have no excuse. I just have it in my blood."

Justin grabs me by the lapels of my robe and yanks me up, peering fiercely into my eyes, his tears now more angry than sad or pained. "You aren't hearing me, you fucker! You are not like your father! You aren't your father!"

Despite the ferocity of his statement, I wrap my arms around him, utterly desperate. I clutch him and feel the tears that are stinging my eyes. 

Justin holds me fast and keeps repeating that he's fine, that it was an accident, that I'm no Jack Kinney. 

"Justin, I crossed a line. I should leave. You stay. I should leave. I should leave." My resolve hardens. "I should leave. Take me into town and I'll rent a car- you can keep the Jeep and stay here as long as you want. Just don't drive home in the storm." I kiss the top of his head, feeling deep sorrow that I'll never see him again. "God, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I hurt you. I can't believe I...." I say quietly, not finishing. And I can't.

It's then that Justin pulls away. 

And, unbelievably, he starts to laugh- and it's not just ordinary laughing. He's practically hysterical- I'm thoroughly confused. "No. Fucking. Way." He finally manages to say. 

"What?"

After a few moments, he wipes at his eyes and calms down a bit before continuing- still chuckling. "You heard me. You can't get out of what we have by shoving me a little harder than you meant to trying to get me to move out of the way! You can't get out of what we have that easily! In fact, you can't get out of what we have, period! You think I'M melodramatic? You're the biggest fucking drama queen I've ever met! Look at you! You're beside yourself because of NOTHING! I'm fucking fine, goddammit! You are NOT Jack Kinney- you don't have a cell in your body that would intentionally hurt another human being! God! Get over yourself!"

"Justin, I pushed you into the door jamb and you cracked your head- and right where fucking Hobbs hit you! That's not nothing! That's plain WRONG!"

Justin gets serious. "Good God, Brian, quit being such a princess! It was TOO nothing. You're overreacting even for you. I know how sensitive you are about abuse--" I wince at that; "--but Bri, that wasn't abuse. That was a fucking accident. Nothing more, nothing less. You were just trying to get past me to leave the goddamned room, for Chrissakes. It's not like you gripped my hair and bashed my head into the wall." At that, I genuinely cringe. "Besides, you were upset about whatever that nightmare was- which I still want you to tell me about. So just forget about it already. Quit queening out."

I feel my shoulders slump and I turn away. I have never raised my hand to anyone before- besides when I was a kid defending Mikey. And that time Michael talked shit about Sunshine. And, of course, once or twice against my fucking asshole father. But now I have fucking hurt the man I... care for more than... more than I have cared for anyone before. While I didn't hit him, I still hurt him. Justin walks around to look at me; I can't face him and I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel Justin's hand on my cheek.

"Bri, really. Let it go. It's nothing. Please." He says gently. "I can't believe you're so over the top about this."

I shrug helplessly. "I'm just sorry."

"I know you are. And don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. And sorry's bullshit, remember? God, I don't think I've ever heard you apologize so much in all the years we've been together."

I huff, realizing it's probably the most I've ever apologized in my life. Fuck me. I walk out of the bathroom, down the short hall and into the kitchen. It's almost 8:00, I notice. Justin follows me and reaches up to massage my shoulders.

"God, you are so knotted up. Relax, Bri."

I glare back at him. "BriAN."

He grins. "BriAN," he concedes. "So, you're okay? Because you should be." He adds.

No, not really, I think. But I nod. Maybe he's right. I really and honestly didn't intend to hurt him. I never would in a million lifetimes. It's just the fact that I DID hurt him that kills me. "Let's have something to eat. I'm hungry." I say simply.

Justin nods and gets some eggs out of the fridge. "You think these are still good?" He asks, quite obviously trying to ignore the exchange from a few moments ago.

"Yeah. Those eggs would be fine even if they weren't in the refrigerator. It's frigid in this cabin."

He nods again and pulls out a pan.

I look out the window. And I lean back against the counter, finding myself genuinely grinning all of a sudden. "Justin, look! Your namesake has shown its face," I say, pointing outside.

He lifts his eyes to glance out the window. His worried and somewhat fearful expression melts and is replaced by one of his trademark smiles. "Sunshine! Omigod! The sun came out! Brian, Brian- we have to go see some of the sights! While we have a reprieve from this storm! Let's go out- c'mon! Please?"

I sigh. It's at this moment that I resign myself to the fact that we aren't leaving today. And I resign myself to Justin's love for me. And I resign myself to the fact that no: I'm not Jack. 

Plus, needless to say, I'm somewhat blinded by the smile on Justin's face and it takes a few minutes for me to answer as I gaze at him. He's fine. Despite the fucking band-aid on his head: he's fine. Despite fucking ME: he's fine. "Um. Sure. We should take Gus. Where do you want to go?" 

Sunshine's smile gets even bigger. "I was thinking Thunder Hole would be really cool, since we just had this storm!"

"Thunder Hole? Thunder Hole??? Somehow that sounds... kinky! And not at all appropriate for my son, might I add."

He laughs. "It's a cave, Bri. At mid-tide, when the waves are big, the sound the surf makes striking it is like thunder. It's so fucking cool!"

"Don't you think we've heard enough thunder for awhile?"

"It's really neat, Bri- c'mon- Gus'll love it! And the timing is perfect- with normal surf it only kind of farts." I snort. He ignores me, excited. "Then we can go to Bar Harbor to the Abby Museum. Or the Jackson Lab. Or to Hunter's Beach."

"Hunter has a beach?"

Justin rolls his eyes. "No, you freak. It's a beach on the open ocean; it's made up of all these rocks about the size of a fist that have been rounded and smoothed by the waves. You can find really beautiful rocks there- they call it Hunter's Beach because everyone goes there and hunts for the nicest of them. It used to be that there weren't many people who actually knew about the place- it's kind of secluded. But Mom says that it's now on all the tourist maps. Which sucks." He cracks an egg into the pan that's now on the stove. He hasn't stopped grinning since I pointed out the sun breaking through the clouds. And I smile to myself inwardly; Justin is back to being as giddy as he was on our way here. As annoying as hell he was then- frankly, now: it's refreshing. 

"Make me a separate omelette, Justin." He rolls his eyes knowingly. "Just eggwhites, peppers and onions."

Justin smirks. "Planning on kissing anyone any time soon? Because you'll be turned down with that kind of breath."

"Yes, I do plan on that; and you'll love it. You drool for the same ingredients in your own omelette- we'll stink together." And I know of which I speak. Although, he'd even include anchovies in his omelette, if he had his way. Which prompts me to add: "No anchovies in yours, asshole."

I go over and yank open the back door so we can enjoy the sunshine. Of course, at that moment, Mikey and the 'fam' are standing there at the doorstep.


	32. Farago or bust?

Sorry it took so long to post this- I've been struggling with this chapter. Not sure I like it, but here it is! Feedback (good and bad) is welcome, as always! Justin's heart is pure - and if anyone he loves has been hurt, he's like a mother tiger protecting her young. Thanks! :)

* * *

POV: JUSTIN

Brian and I stand there looking at the small crowd standing there on the doorstep after he'd yanked open the door for us to enjoy the sunshine streaming down on the rain-soaked land. Brian smirks and rolls his eyes. "It's pretty fucking early in the morning you know, 'fam'..."

"Daddee!" Gus pipes up and we see him reaching for Brian from Lindsay's hold; she's in the back behind Debbie. Brian's expression softens considerably and he waves everyone into the kitchen, quickly lifting his son from Lindsay's grasp as she passes; she's beaming. You know, while I've said this before: Lindsay must be bi. Or else Brian is the exception to her lesbianism. Because it is so obvious that she's in love with the father of her son. Mel's looking a little resentful as she follows on Linds' heels. I'm probably the only one who notices.

"Sonny Boy! Good morning! How'd you sleep?" Brian says cheerfully, carefully settling the boy on his hip, mindful of his bruises and broken ribs.

"Good, Daddee! An' no more thunder an' lightning! Tha sun is out, Daddee!" He giggles happily, throwing his arms around Brian's neck. "An' we saw a rainbow in the sky when I woke up! It's gone now, but Mommy said that it looked like tha end of tha rainbow was at your an' Jussin's place - here!- from what we could see up at our cabin!" 

"Really? Hmmm." He looks around in an exaggerated fashion, ducking to look under the counter then pulling open the cabinets, peering inside; all the while swinging a laughing Gus with him. "So, where's the pot o'gold, son?" He finally asks lightly, opening the oven and dipping his son as he looks inside (while he winces, albeit barely perceptively). Gus goes nuts. 

"You've already found it, haven't you, Sonny Boy? Since you're so rich now, that means you're buying breakfast." Then Bri smiles down at his son and delivers a few of those Gus-cherished 'Eskimo kisses'; Gus reaches his tiny hand around his Daddy's head to keep their noses rubbing together as the boy giggles incontrollably. ''Skimo kisses! 'Skimo kisses! Daddee!"

I'm grinning at Brian; and everyone else is too, I see. Bri's got this weird hold over all of us, I've noticed. He's like the star of 'the show' that is our 'fam'. (He'd probably argue that *I* was, but it's obvious that he's the center...)

Brian lifts Gus' little shirt and sends the kid into fits with an expert raspberry on his belly. I've been the recipient of Brian's raspberries, and my reaction wasn't much different than Gus's: the boy is squealing. 

"Pot o'gold, Daddee? Wha's a pot o' gold?" His son asks after a few moments of hysterical laughing.

Brian chuckles. "Now, don't you play dumb with me, Sonny Boy. You have that pot o'gold and you've stashed it in your toybox, haven't you?" He mock accuses, gently tickling the child on the tummy for a few seconds.

Gus is laughing so hard again that this time, he turns a light pink and there's a moment when he can't seem to inhale. Brian's smile lessens slightly with concern until the toddler finally inhales a deep breath before his peals of laughter continue. It's all so adorable, I start to laugh a little myself. I notice I'm not the only one- even Mel is smiling at the two. 

After a few moments, Gus' massive fit calms into a mere giggle fest. "You're funny, Daddee. I don't have tha pot o'gold, tho', Daddee. I don' know what a pot o'gold is."

Brian smiles. "It's an Irish myth, my boy. The story goes that at the end of every rainbow, there's a pot of gold coins. But of course, in truth, you can never see the end of a rainbow. Not close enough to find the gold, anyway. So, I was just teasing you about having it- you're off the hook." Brian leans down slightly and kisses the top of his son's head.

"Good." Gus answers simply- still giggling a little. Flushed from his laughing fit, he leans his head against his father's shoulder and quietly starts to suck on one of his tiny fingers. It's a habit Gus has had for awhile now. It drives Lindsay bonkers, worrying about potential orthodontia issues later on- but I can tell Bri finds it absolutely endearing. It's the way Gus smiles around his finger when something happy or silly occurs to him that makes Brian's heart melt- Brian grins every time he sees Gus do it. It suddenly strikes me that Brian seems to like (love) two people who are somewhat obsessed with fingers. Obsessed for very, VERY different reasons, of course.

"How about I fix you boys and girls some breakfast?" Debbie asks, leaning over to give Gus a gentle pinch on his cheek. He smiles, not bothering to remove the finger from his mouth and I glance up to watch Brian's expression. Yup. There's that grin. "I'll make french toast and I saw some sausage in the freezer. Good thing you boys didn't open the freezer much over the last few days of no power- the meat should still be good."

"Wonder when the power is gonna come back on..." Hunter says idly to no one in particular. Although, he's staring at Brian- of course. Jesus. H. Christ.

But Brian's oblivious to the attention as he gazes at the little boy in his arms. He ignores everyone and wanders into the living room to sit down, his bruises and wounds obviously getting to him; all of us except for Deb trail after him. 

I come up next to Brian and put my hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. "Let's go out on the front porch." I suggest quietly.

"It's pretty chilly out. And there's days' worth of torrential rains soaking the porch, grass, trees- hell- everything out there." I realize that he's right as I look out the bank of windows- the sun is warming the soaked ground and wooden porch, causing steam to rise everywhere. "But, we might want to check on the boats." He adds.

I jolt. The boats! I forgot the boats! Not waiting for anyone to accompany me, I quickly exit the cabin and run, slithering and sliding over the slick and slippery ground to the dock. Sure enough. They aren't there. Well, yes they are; the ropes are- tied to the dock and attached to the vessels that are barely visible through the very muddy and nearly opaque tossing waves. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Sunk. Both boats have been ruined. Defeated, I start to walk back to the cabin, stepping gingerly so as not to fall on my ass; as I go, I'm somewhat amazed that I didn't actually fall and crack my head open in my rush down to see the fate of the whalers- the ground is so slick. As I step carefully, I look around at the damage that the storm caused. Trees are down, ground is washed away, the trees that haven't been fully toppled are completely bent from the force of the recent vicious wind. The branches above me drip so heavily it's almost like it's still raining.

I start to wonder if Brian might be right. Maybe we should leave while the getting's good. If that storm's coming back, it's gonna be a sucky drive home.

I make it back to the cabin and wander in, wiping my feet at the door before I enter. Everyone is chatting quietly except Bri, who is gently holding Gus on the sofa. 

"How're the boats?" He asks as I sit next to him and sigh. I notice that Gus has fallen asleep- hence the hushed tones of the conversations around the room.

"Gone." 

Brian eyes me. 

"Well, the boats are still there- your knots kept them attached to the dock. But the storm sank them. Both of them. Shit, Brian. My Mom's going to fucking kill me. My Dad... er, Craig... ah fuck it. I'm dead."

"If that's what makes your family 'kill' you, you should be glad you're no longer living at home." His voice is soft, gentle. And a little pained, although he's trying to hide it - especially as he focuses on the child in his arms, who is leaning against his father's wounded torso, dozing. "Your folks will understand, Sunshine. They aren't going to 'kill' you."

And it's then that I realize that Brian's family basically DID try to kill him- and for MUCH lesser reasons- for no reasons, actually. I know my family wouldn't physically hurt me. The most that I've endured in my life is a slap from my father outside the garage that one day, not long after I came out to my family. It hurt, yes. But growing up in the Taylor home, I was never told that I wasn't wanted. Never told that I should have been an abortion. Never told that I was worthless. Never told that I was a pussy who deserved an endless barrage of heartless, cruel and torturous abuse- I never lived through what Brian did. I never went through that. 

I look over at Brian cradling Gus so lovingly in his arms and marvel at how beautiful, unbelievable, brave and amazing the man is. How different he is with Gus than his father was with him- I mean, night and DAY different. He's so tender with his son. And I realize how stupid I am for griping about the damned boats- I mean, it's not like it was my fault. Fuck it: even if I had gone out there and drilled goddamned *holes* into the baseboards of those whalers on *purpose*, I wouldn't get slugged, belted, literally broken in any way as punishment- I'd only get scolded verbally, like most kids would. As it was, Brian was right: Mom will understand- the boats simply sank; there's no blame involved. 

I glance around at everyone huddled in little groups, all absorbed in their conversations. It's just me and Brian who aren't talking much- well, and Deb, who's involved in preparing breakfast. Brian's engrossed in watching over his drowsy son lolling against his sore frame. And I'm engrossed in observing Brian's intense care and overt love for the boy. I move over and lean against him. It's suddenly like we're the only three in the room. He turns his head slightly and looks at me, smiling warmly. I beam back at him. 

"Gawd," he whispers over the other conversations in the room, quiet enough not to disturb his sleeping baby. "We're really becoming lesbians. I'm scared." 

I snicker. "Brian, you could don flannel, get fat, wear those stupid lezzie-type glasses, go to ‘dyke night’ at Babylon- but you could never, ever pass for a lesbian. You could even get married, say 'I love you' and turn into a permanent bottom-- you could do all those things, and you'd still be the fucking Stud of Liberty Avenue. You're The Big Bad Brian Fucking Kinney." All of this is said in a whisper as well, of course, and he's looking at me oddly. 

"Get fat?" Bri shudders. "'Dyke night'?" He shudders again. "Fuck that!" He says in a low voice. I chuckle. 

"French toast is ready!" Debbie announces. 

Gus's eyes open and he cranes his neck around to look sleepily at his 'Ganma'.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Brian says gently. Gus smiles and yawns. Brian leans forward painfully and hands me his beautiful son before standing up. "Just toast for me," he mutters.

"Oh, c'mon, Bri!" Lindsay says, coming over and smiling coyly as he pops his neck. "This is your first sunny day in Maine in days... Live a little! Have some french toast!"

He glances at her in disgust. "French toast is for kids." He smirks.

"I thought 'Trix' were for kids. And yet, we all know how much you love your tricks..." Mel tosses over her shoulder as she walks into the kitchen to help Debbie.

Brian and I exchange brief looks. Linds rubs his arm affectionately before walking into the kitchen to help, as well.

Emmett comes up, having been involved in conversation with Hunter of all people. "Can I take him?" He asks with a quirky and endearing smile on his face, gesturing towards Gus. 

I glance at Brian who nods slightly. "Um. Sure," I say, handing him Brian's still-half-sleeping son. 

Brian eyes Emmett warily, but says nothing. Gus's eyes open fully and he gazes up at his tall captor.

"Unkie Emmett?" He says blearily. Brian snorts softly and rolls his eyes. "You're pretty, Unkie. An' tall like Daddee. I like you." Gus pokes Em on the nose with his index finger and giggles. It's so cute, I even see a ghost of a smile on Brian's face.

'Unkie' is clearly touched by the child's sleepy pronouncement- Em gets a little misty and the oblivious Gus sucks on his pinkie and smiles at nothing in particular, deciding to lean his head against Emmett's collarbone and look at Bri. "I like you too, Gussy. You're a real charmer. You're gonna be a real lady or gentleman killer when you get older." Em strokes the boy's hair and gives him a brief kiss on the forehead. 

With 'Unkie's' small motion of affection towards Gus, I notice Brian's smile broaden briefly at the man. Brian likes Emmett. It's mutual, I can tell. They appreciate each other. Brian appreciates Emmett's overt 'outness'. As flaming and queeny as the guy is, Brian likes that he's pretty much as open and honest as Brian himself. Emmett tells it like it is. 

And: Emmett; he appreciates Brian's beauty, honesty, success, and quiet yet loving protection of his friends. Or, more accurately: his 'freakshow of a family' as Brian puts it. And he appreciates Brian for who he is period. Emmett knows Brian pretty well- better than Michael sometimes, it seems. I can't count the number of times he's taken me aside when I've been ticked at Bri for whatever stupid reason and he's reminded me how to read and understand the sometimes trying man. It's a case of mutual respect for the two of them.

Still, they verbally spar all the time of course. Not this time though, I notice.

Emmett kisses Gus again just before Deb comes out and stomps up to us. "You four planning on joining us peons? After I slaved over a hot stove for an hour?" Despite the harshness of her words, her voice is hushed and somewhat gentle, given the bundle in Emmett's arms- but her eyes are shooting daggers at us three adults.

"Uh oh, Bri. Looks like you may have to have some actual french toast." I whisper and wink at him after she retreats. He winces at that. Surreptitiously, I lean up to kiss him. 

He rolls his eyes. "Always with this 'Bri' shit. God, I can't win." He mutters under his breath. I grin at him a bit wickedly.

And then I glance over at the table where everyone is chatting quietly, eating, pouring syrup, drinking juice. My mouth starts to water. I walk over and find a chair. Emmett and Brian come over too- Emmett looks from Lindsay to Brian questioningly- the sleepy child in his arms poses an obvious quandary at this point. Em doesn't know what to do with the kid in order to sit down and eat.

Brian smiles softly. "Here, give him to me, you queen. I'm not eating. Tell Debbie to bring some phone books for Sonny Boy here."

"Okay. Thanks sweetie. Here, take your angel." He says softly, kissing Gus on the forehead once more and handing the drowsy baby to Brian. Brian wanders over to the fireplace, cuddling the toddler gently.

As I observe the two of them, I think how I'd have a stroke if I loved Brian more. I'd fucking stroke out. 

At this moment, I'm startled when Deb grabs my cheek and pulls me away from the table and from Brian. I look at her curiously. "What's wrong, Deb?" I whisper; no one eating breakfast seemed to notice Deb yanking me away- and Brian, the one who would notice, is acting like a goof over his mini me son- so he didn't see it either.

"Justin." She says seriously. I glance at her warily. "Sunshine." One look into her eyes and I can see she's not kidding around. "Do you love him?"

"Brian?"

"Yes, you fuck. Brian. Do you love him? Really, really love him?"

I look at her like she's an idiot- I can't help it. She of all people knows how much I love him! "Yes! Jesus! Of course!"

"Then don't fuck this up. And don't let him fuck it up either. He's been through a helluva lot, Sunshine--" I look down bitterly, knowing now just how true that is; but she knows as much if not more than I do-- "…he's been through more than you can imagine or believe. I know you know what I'm talking about. And I was there, as much as I could be, anyway. I know I give him shit and he drives me up a wall more times than not, but I love him like he's my own son. He's an amazing person, Sunshine." I find myself wondering what the fuck brought this up. This is the kind of talk she usually gives Brian- not me... Debbie looks at me, apparently reading my puzzled thoughts. "I'm saying all this because Michael told me about Brian's nightmares coming back." Oh. I suck in a breath. She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Justin, love him. Be there for him. Try to understand him. If you need any insights into him- which I don't believe you do or will- I'm here. Again, he's like a son to me. You're like a son to me. Be good to one another. He's come so far. Thanks to you. Thanks to Mikey. Lindsay. And, of course, that beautiful child of his. But mostly, you. Don't hurt him." 

I stare at her, suddenly realizing that 'regular life' is going on a few feet away where everyone is gossiping away at the table, eating and laughing. And Brian is oblivious to everything and everyone with his son in his arms, murmuring loving words to the child. 

"Debbie, first of all, I would NEVER intentionally hurt Brian--" I'm frozen momentarily by her telling gaze- not accusatory or blaming, but telling. She's thinking of fucking goddamned Ethan and I wince a little.

"Deb... I love Brian. I always have- ever since I first saw him by that Jeep. Fuck Debbie, I love him more than my... fuck, more than ANYthing. It makes me ache sometimes. I won't hurt him- Ethan was a terrible, fucked up, I-stopped-being-able-to-understand-Kinneyspeak disaster..." She looks at me oddly, but then nods. She knows about Brian's unique language, even if she doesn't know the term Michael and I coined for it. I continue. "And I never was in love with Ethan Gold. I loved the romance- not him. But I was always IN love with Brian." I take a deep breath. "I know some of what he went through when he was younger. The horrific abuse. And it kills me to know that I have only heard a fraction of the whole nightmare. 

"So, believe me, Deb, I'll be there for him. I won't hurt him. He's been hurt enough. He's been let down enough." I pause as I remember Brian's near-total breakdown the other night and how angry, sad and sickened I was by what I'd learned- not only about what happened to him, but about how nobody-- even Deb-- got him away from the torture chamber he called home. I try to keep my emotions in check. "Deb...?"

She cocks a questioning eyebrow at me. There's a hint of wariness in her stance which somewhat surprises me.

"Deb, why didn't you get Brian out of that house? Away from Jack and Joan? Away from that unbelievable abuse? You must have known that on any single one of those days all those years ago, you could have found out that your son's best friend had been killed. Your 'other son'- beaten, bludgeoned, hacked, pounded or whatever-the-fuck-else to death at the hands of his own father." My voice is quiet, but something in me stirs to anger when I glance over at my partner now sitting in a chair by the fire, kissing the top of his toddler's head. I stir to anger when I think of how Brian is such a loving father despite the role model he grew up with-- the one nobody rescued him from. 

Her face falls and I notice tears appear at the corners of her eyes as they glaze over. And I'm suddenly sorry for asking what I asked and saying what I said. But it's something I have to know. "Jack. Jack was fucking evil. He scared the living shit out of me. I tried. I really tried." Her words are hushed, choked, and I have to struggle to hear them. "I hated that man. I loved- love- Brian so much... I wanted to go to that house of horror and kill that fucking shit of a father and bitch of a mother myself. But suddenly there was Vic and he was so sick. And of course, there was Michael. And Brian had a safe haven at our house. Plus, when I actually did call family services, it just made matters so much worse for the poor kid... Fuck!" She says quietly, lost in her memories. "I cried for Brian every day, Justin. Every fucking day. And the too-many times he'd show up at our door battered beyond recognition, I'd tend to his wounds and later cry so hard I'd look like I'd been battered myself." She sobs softly. "Fuck." She says again. "FUCK!" She says much more loudly, apparently forgetting there's an audience just yards away. 

Everyone at the table shuts up and looks over to see us standing there, me with my fists clenched and Deb with mascara running in little black rivulets down her cheeks. Michael, confused, stands and rushes over, embracing her quietly. "Ma!" He glares at me.

Simultaneously, I hear Brian: "Debbie, shut up! What the fuck?" He turns around from his spot at the fireplace to face us, still jiggling his sleeping boy. "My son is trying to sleep here!" Then he notices she's crying. "Debbie!" He rushes over; he gently hands Gus to Lindsay before going to the crying woman, putting his hand on her back and looking at Michael questioningly. 

Michael shrugs, still embracing his mother, and still shooting me vicious looks. "Ma! What did that fucker say to you?" I'm 'that fucker'. 

Brian looks confused. "Who? What? What the fuck is going on?"

"Something your boyfriend said to my mother made her cry!"

"Wha...?" Brian turns to me, an incredulous look on his face. "Justin?" He asks; there's no venom or accusation to his tone, just confusion. "What happened?"

It's then that I realize my eyes are filled with tears too and I swipe them quickly. "I'm sorry, Bri; I'm sorry, Debbie. Everyone." I say quietly, and rush past the bewildered man into the back where the bedroom is. 

I find myself laying on top of the bed, crying softly on the quilt - all thoughts of having an outing in now-sunny Maine are banished from my mind, replaced with thoughts of how everyone in Brian's life basically let him down. Me included. In a few minutes, I hear the bedroom door close softly and I look up to see Brian approaching me, confused and concerned. 

"Everyone but Deb and Mikey just left, mid-meal. What the hell?" He asks gently as I feel the mattress dip next to me as he sits on the bed; he rubs his hand in comforting circles on my back. "Someone close to you and Mother Novotny die suddenly?"

I shoot him a half-hearted glare. "No."

"Did you two get your chicken parmesan recipes mixed up? Did she use oregano when she should have used basil? Did you use mozzarella when you should have used romano?"

I huff a little but my glare is more 'full-hearted' this time. "No." 

"Well, why did I just walk away from a crying Deb to come in here to find out what this is all about?"

I look down and wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. "You didn't have to."

"Well, it was this, or follow Deb into the fucking bathroom-- and Mikey's got that covered, thank God."

"She was just telling me not to let you down. To be there for you."

Brian cocks an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Uh huh." He pauses, knowing there must be more than that. "And...?"

"How much she cares for you. How she cried for you when you were a child, because what you went through living with Jack and Joan."

His face twists into a strange expression. 

"She feels terrible, Bri. She says she loves you like a son. But... but she didn't protect you."

"She couldn't, Justin."

I remain silent at that. Because I know that no matter what, I would have done something to protect Brian from that beast and his neglectful bitch of a wife. I shift to the edge of the bed and stand up. He stands as well, facing me.

"Justin...?"

"..."

"Justin, what the fuck is going on? What are you thinking?"

I lift my eyes and stare at him, feeling the tears hot on my cheeks. "You want to know what I'm thinking?" There's an edge to my voice I wasn't expecting.

He looks a little apprehensive, but he nods slowly.

"Fine. FINE!" My temper suddenly snaps. 

"Justin..." Brian says warily. 

"You want to know what I'm thinking??? I'm thinking that you needed fucking PROTECTION when you were a child! No one- not Deb, not child services, not the teachers, not Vic, NO ONE came to your defense! NO one got you away from those sick fucks you call parents!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down! Deb will hear you!" Brian hisses; I barely register the words.

"So what if she hears me? You had the fucking living SHIT beat out of you and NO ONE rescued you! No one got you out of that house! Nobody!" I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm fucking livid all of a sudden. "Debbie," I yell towards the closed bedroom door. "Why didn't you do more? Why didn't you SAVE him?"

I feel a sudden yank on my arm which reels me round and I see Brian angrily staring me down. "Shut up, you fucker! I mean it..." he's seething.

"Why? WHY? It's TRUE, isn't it? You were a defenseless kid! You got whipped- flayed- by your father's sharp-edged metal belt buckle on a regular basis! You woke up to your fucking father beating the shit out of you at two in the morning for no reason whatsoever-- also on a regular fucking basis!"

Brian winces, his grasp tightening on my arm. "Justin, shut the FUCK up!"

I ignore him and continue my vehement diatribe, not even thinking of what I'm doing. "You haven't slept well for YEARS because of your father waking you and beating you senseless! You've had terrifying nightmares for days now! And have had them on and off for decades! And while you were being beaten to near-death, every fucking adult in your life let you fucking DOWN! I just can't accept that! Jack broke your femur for Christ's sake! On your BIRTHDAY! As part of a sick-assed birthday RITUAL!!!" I feel bile rising in my throat and I violently pull my arm from Brian's firm grip and run into the bathroom off our bedroom. 

Without hearing a noise except for my own dry-heaves, I still know that Brian has come in behind me. 

“Justin.” 

When I’m finished retching, I slump against the cold porcelain and try to get myself under control. In the back of my mind, I think how this is the second time I've looked down into this toilet from this angle and proximity in practically as many days. 

I don’t know why I’m so over the top. Something about the circumstances have just tipped me over. That, and the mental images of what happened to Brian as a defenseless child- images that I can't banish from my mind. Horrific, terrible images in which all I see is Gus-slash-Brian being horribly abused. I've seen one baby picture of Brian- being held by Jack of all people. Bri looked almost exactly like Gus looked about a year and a half ago. 

“Justin.” Brian says again, jarring me to the present. 

My stomach rolls. I turn my head to look at him and his expression is a mixture of sadness, anger and remorse. He comes over and kneels beside me on the bathroom floor, taking a deep breath. "Debbie didn’t deserve that tongue lashing, Sunshine- even if she didn't hear you through the door. She didn’t do anything wrong. She tried. Jack was terrifying- he was a monster. Deb was scared of him.” His voice is very quiet, tired and resigned. “Everyone was scared of him, Justin. Deb was the only one who would take me in when he’d rear his ugly fist, belt, hockey stick, ice skate, croquet mallet… whatever the fuck...” Brian shudders and seems to decide not to continue with the litany of horrific tools of torture Jack apparently used against his only son. “She was there for me, Sunshine. She took care of me. She tended to me when I was hurt.” Brian squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. "As much of a hard time as she gives me, she was there. She didn't turn her back on me."

I stare at him, speechless for a moment. “But... but, Brian, she didn’t save you from any of that. You suffered for years and she watched it happen. She helped you heal up, but she didn't do much of anything to prevent the suffering. Maybe I was a little harsh back there but I was- I AM- mad. You know I love her to death. Just... it's so unlike her to have not done something about the situation.” 

Brian sighs wearily. “God. Fucking Jack..." he mutters to himself. "Justin, Debbie, for all her bluster and trash talk-" he stops in frustration, thinking of what words to use. "Justin, she suffered because of me. She cared. It killed her to see what was happening." He sighs. "But, Justin, she didn’t do anything wrong. And she had a lot of shit on her plate at the time- Vic came to stay, sicker than a dog; Mikey was all over the place; she had the diner... but she still took care of me.”

“Not well enough. You should have been taken out of that house. That sick fuck Jack should have been locked away forever. He should have been fucking shot for what he did to you. If I'd been around, I would have done it myself.”

Brian looks at me and wipes my tears away with his thumbs before lifting my chin to fully meet his gaze. “What is this coming from?” He asks quietly. 

I melt into his eyes and find myself leaning over to hug him fervently. When I feel him cringe slightly, I realize I’m probably pressing on his bruises and sore ribs and I pull back slightly. “Brian…” I mutter helplessly. “I just wish you didn’t have to go through so much. I love you, and it truly hurts- tears at me- that you had no one to protect you, to take you from that, to keep you safe. I want you safe. I want you here a long time…” I realize I’m echoing his words from years ago- of course then, the words were said in a very different context. 

“Justin, I'm not going anywhere; I'm safe. He didn’t kill me, Sunshine. And he’s gone now; gone for good. In fact, once I was 16, I was big and strong enough that he couldn’t hurt me. He can’t hurt me anymore. Although the fucker seems to be hurting you and Debbie from beyond the grave. Remarkable, really, how he's managed to do that.”

“He is too still hurting you, Brian. You’re haunted by nightmares and memories of all those years of torture from that sick sack of shit. I’m serious- I don’t understand why you aren’t a quaking, shivering mess in a strait jacket at St. Mary’s Home for the Mentally Deranged. I nearly am and it didn’t even happen to me!”

Brian snorts. “St. Mary’s? I’d check into St. Joseph’s, thank you very much.”

But his attempt at humor falls flat. Still, I chuckle lightly and hold him fast. 

“Justin, I am really, truly sorry for making you feel so terrible. For telling you about… some of what I went through. I know how sensitive you are- I knew you would react strongly to what you heard. It's just that you pushed so hard, you're so persistent. But it’s over. I’m okay. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

I pull back fully and study his face. All his anger is gone and there’s only a deep sadness left in its place. And true sorrow. And I put that there. I hear a soft sob and realize that it's me; I kiss him gently. “I’m sorry, Bri. I don’t mean to keep dredging up all this shit. It’s just… it’s just… seeing you with Gus, how sweet you are with him… knowing that you could have been protected from a father who was the complete opposite of you; It kills me." My voice is low and I sigh shakily. "And then how everyone in our 'freakshow of a family' can treat you like such shit sometimes..." 

"Justin, I'm not an easy person to love and I interact with people with snark and derision- you know that. Plus, you're the one who's been harping on how much everybody 'loves' me." The last few words are dripping with irony. Then his voice becomes no-nonsense. “Sunshine, I know how they feel about me. And they know how I feel about them.” He gently wipes more tears from my cheeks, sighing. “And you know how I feel about you.” He pauses. “Right?”

I look at him for what must be about a year, my eyes flicking over his gentle, sad, unbelievably beautiful features, and I'm admittedly kind of stunned. “I think so." I finally say. He cocks an eyebrow at me. "You love me?” I ask cautiously, wondering if I'll actually hear a "yes"- or even the words themselves.

Instead, a look of consternation furrows Brian's brow before he looks away. “Christ.”

I reach out and pull his face around to face me again. “You love me.” It’s a statement this time. He doesn't say anything, but his lips roll into his mouth momentarily and his eyelids flutter slightly. And I don’t need an answer. I don't need the actual words. I brush my hand through his hair and lean in to kiss him. It’s not sexual. It’s tender, sensitive and loving. And I know that it's completely reciprocated. When we part lips I gasp slightly. “And I love you.” I look into his eyes. “I still wish I was there for you all those years.” I add very quietly. "I wish someone got you out of there." I rest my forehead against his, keeping eye contact.

Brian’s silent several moments. He's thoughtful. “Uh huh. Thanks. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was just how things were meant to be.” I choke at that but his look tells me to keep quiet; I bite the side of my cheek hard in order to not open my mouth in protest. After a few more moments, he adds: “Still, I think you might want to apologize to Debbie, Sunshine. She’s out there probably bawling her eyes out. She didn't do anything wrong. She provided me a haven from the horror and she deserves to be thanked for that- not vilified. I mean, hell, from what you told me a little bit ago, she was still protecting me when she pulled you aside to talk earlier."

Yeah. Protect you from me, I think sadly to myself. And I suddenly feel absolutely terrible. 

“You didn’t say anything to her that she hasn’t already kicked herself for. I’m not berating you, Sunshine. I just think you’d both feel better if you said you were sorry…”

“Yeah. I guess. It still bothers me, though, Brian. It really does.”

“Times were different then, Justin. Very different. And you never met Jack.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank God.” He adds, more to himself than to me. Then he looks at me with a small, sad smile. “C’mon. Let’s go to hallway bathroom where Deb is probably still crying with Mikey.” He pulls me up from the bathroom floor as he stands. "You sure cry and puke a lot lately." He adds, smirking slightly.

"I've only threw up twice, Brian."

"Yeah, but you aren't and haven't been sick. It takes a lot of angst to make someone actually puke. Even you." 

"Uh huh. Wouldn't you call what I've learned about your childhood pretty angsty? Or, to be more accurate, terrifying?"

His hand is on the doorknob and I see his jaw clench. I'm immediately sorry for having said that. After all, he lived it- I just heard about it. He turns to me, looking down into my eyes and wrapping his robe more tightly around him, retying the belt. I look at him apologetically. He puts his sore hand on the small of my back, keeping the other hand on the doorknob, and he pulls me into a gentle, intimate, on-armed hug. 

"Let's go out. I really need to apologize to Debbie. You're right- I can be a real drama queen when it comes to you, can't I?"

"Not just when it comes to me, you ass. You rule the Land of Drama- and you rule with a passion and snootiness that rivals Liza fucking Minnelli and Zsa Zsa Gabor."

I snort slightly, my mood lightening somewhat- although I'm dreading whatever it is I'll have to face in the next room. I don't hear any voices out there. There's a knot in my gut. "Let's go."


	33. Farago or bust?

POV: DEBBIE

"Let me go in first." I hear these softly spoken words as I sit here in the dining room with Michael, unable to stop crying. I never expected my worst regrets and my most horrible shame to be screamed at me by Justin from beyond a closed door. Michael is fuming at him, I can tell, but he's sitting here at the table with me rubbing my back and occasionally squeezing my shoulder. He keeps whispering that I shouldn't listen to the words thrown out at me from the bedroom; that I did everything I could for Brian. 

Yes. The words hurt. The now-voiced words that all of my demons have branded into my soul about Brian as a child and about my role in his life- they hurt. Although, no one knows the extent that I tried to help him. As I think this, wiping a tear from my cheek, Brian comes in quietly. His expression is full of love and sorrow and shame, and he's looking right into my eyes. My heart melts- this is the Brian I let down. I can't count the number of times I saw that look in his eyes when he'd show up crying and cringing on my doorstep, beaten and defenseless. "Deb?" He ventures. His voice is timid, sounding just like those times those years ago. Until now, I haven't heard that tone from him since he was a kid.

Michael practically snarls. "Brian, I hope you throttled that shit of a boyfriend you have for what he said. That fuck! Ma didn't deserve this! All she's ever done is take care of everyone- you, me, that fucking ingrate in there!"

Then I see Justin half hovering behind the cabinets near Brian. His expression is anguished, sad and filled with regret. He's gazing at me with tears in his eyes. I see it. All of it. And I know now. I know. He's sorry. I notice his hands clasp desperately although I'm sure he's not aware of what he's doing- but it's like he's begging for forgiveness; he looks like a supplicant. It's obvious that he's just very angry about what happened to Brian and he's looking for someone living and near to blame for it- before a few days ago, he'd never known the extent of the abuse, I'm guessing. But if Brian's nightmares have returned, I'm sure Justin has recently learned more than he could have ever imagined about that abuse. Because, as reticent as Brian is, Justin has a way to get him to reveal shit that he ordinarily never would. Sunshine is like that. He and I have that in common, actually.

Michael has noticed Justin now too and he stands suddenly, his chair toppling behind him with the force of his anger. He strides around the table towards the boy, growling like a cornered animal.

"Michael, stop it!" I yell- Brian restrains him as he passes the sink.

"Mikey, no..." Brian says. "It's not his fault. It's me."

Oh, Christ. No, Brian. I feel a tear trailing a hot path down my cheek.

"How the fucking HELL is it your fault?" Michael yells. Mikey's never fully understood how Brian takes on responsibility for the people in his life, for their mishaps, their mistakes, their wrongs... he does it for me. I know he does. After all that yelling behind the closed door of their bedroom just now, I will guarantee you that he was talking Justin down and telling him how much I was there for him as a child, how much I provided a safe haven for him, how much I had on my plate and yet still made room for him... But Michael sometimes fails to see the pattern - irregular as it sometimes is- that is Brian Kinney. Just like when he didn't get what Brian was doing when he threw that birthday party for him and tossed him off a cliff. Granted, it took me a bit to realize it, too- I had been so angry, my logic was clouded. But Michael never caught on. Until the one other in Brian's life- our lives- made it clear. Justin. Who, it seems, knew before even I did- knew what Brian had done. 

And that's why I can let go of the hurt I feel after hearing Sunshine's words a few moments ago. His love, their bond, is beyond what I'll probably ever experience with a lover, but I can recognize it. Justin is like me: like a mother protecting her young. His love for Brian is fierce and unforgiving, and if he perceives anyone or anything hurting the one that he loves more than his life, he'll lash out. Just like me with Mikey. And, even like me with Brian. Because Brian's one of my young. I did do my best. Well, my best at the time. Michael doesn't know what all went on then- how far I actually did go to get Brian out of that hell hole. Brian doesn't know either. No one except Vic knows all of what happened back then. 

I'm jarred out of my thoughts when I realize the boys are fighting. "Brian, let me go! Let me at that fuck!" Brian has a firm hold on my son, shaking his head. 

"Stop it, Michael." He says, hugging him to restrain him. Michael hesitates. 

Justin comes into the kitchen hesitantly, his need to apologize to me apparently stronger than his fear that Michael will break free of Brian and pummel him. Or try, at least. 

Brian sees Justin approach and he draws Mikey into an even tighter embrace to allow his lover pass the two without incident. Michael relents somewhat, clutching at his best friend and wished-for lover; he drops his head onto Brian's shoulder, squeezing his eyes closed as he presses against his torso, not aware of anything but the feeling of Brian. I notice that Brian's holding him fast, but he's wincing intensely and I wince with him, reminded of his broken ribs and bruises. Justin turns a concerned glance Brian's way as he goes by, worried about Brian's obvious pain but the older man waves him on.

Justin nods, brow still furrowed, but he comes to my side, sitting down in the chair Michael had been in. He clasps my hand and I start to cry full on. I notice Brian quietly leading Mikey away from the kitchen, disappearing around the ceiling high island of cabinets and leading him to the living room, avoiding the dining area altogether. I watch Brian pull Michael, who is obviously distraught, out onto the porch. Before the front door closes, I vaguely hear Brian talking about how the flowers and trees should probably smell like crazy now that the sun's warm and the storm has gotten everything so moist. I smile through my tears. I do love that annoying fucker- I'm talking about Brian, right now- in case there were any doubts. I turn my attention back to Justin, who is watching me as I watch Brian, tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Debbie... Deb..." Justin hiccups. "I'm so sorry. I know how much you were there for him. How much you loved him. How much you love him. It's just, I wasn't there- and I wish I could take it away. Make it better. Erase some of the horror. The terror. The torture Brian went through as a baby, infant, toddler, child... teen and now adult." He pauses a moment and swallows hard. "These nightmares he has, Deb..." He waves vaguely in the air, sobbing. "They're terrifying. He screams like he's about to be slaughtered- and to think that he's reliving memories of his childhood- abuses that he actually went through- that cuts me to my very soul. I'd never known the extent of it, you know? And since the nightmares have come back, I haven't slept much. I watch him. I rouse him as soon as I see the first scream about to erupt from his throat. I've fucking thrown up twice from what I've learned about what he went through; and I don't even know it all. I mean, the few details I know about his childhood, it sounds like he was on the verge of being fucking killed just about daily. How did he survive?" 

Just then, the front door opens and Brian walks into the room, somber and clutching his sides tenderly, obviously in pain. 

"Where's Mikey?" I ask, sniffling a bit. 

"He went to his and Ben's cabin. I thought you two might need to talk alone. And I'm tired."

"Brian, come sit with us." I say, holding an arm out. He glances at Justin, as I do. Sunshine smiles through tears and nods slightly.

Brian regards us both for a moment. "If you two want me in on all this, do you mind if we sit here in the living room? I wanna sit back on the sofa. Mikey's worse than Gus on my ribs, I swear."

Even though Sunshine and I are both crying softly, at that comment, we both start smiling and grab for the napkins on the table, aware of our snot and tears. We rise and go to sit near Brian in the living room; Justin first throws another log on the fire and stokes it.

"Is this gonna suck? You both know me pretty fucking well. Am I gonna want to slit my wrists if I endure this conversation?"

I snort and exchange a knowing glance with Justin. "Maybe, Brian. But I'll kick you in the ribs if you try."

He winces at that.

"I have a few things I want to tell you. And Justin should hear them, as well. A lot of the stuff you said this morning, Justin, makes me want to reveal this shit. Unlike Brian here, I don't feel compelled to be silently noble and heroic. I need to tell you both about what really happened."

Both the boys' eyebrows raise- Justin still has tears leaking from the corners of his eyes; Brian looks uncomfortable and slightly fearful.

"Listen, you boys are like my sons." I turn to Brian. "Brian, I love you. I should have done more- Sunshine is right. But just so you know: Jack fucking scared me. I think you know that. When I went over to your house the first time I realized what was going on - when you had shown up sobbing and absolutely covered in blood and bruises (I swear, at first sight, I thought you'd been in a horrible car accident)- anyway, I went to your house while you took a bath, Vic tending to your wounds."

Brian nods slightly but looks somewhat scared by both the memory and by what I'm about to reveal. But I have to tell him. I put my hand on his knee to steady him (and me) and glance at Justin. Justin looks sad and helpless. I forge on. "I got there and the door was swung open angrily after I knocked. I confronted Jack, who stood there swaying, drunk off his ass. Before I finished saying my piece- you know, how if anyone ever laid a hand on you again I'd fucking kill them- he suddenly grabbed the front of my shirt and picked me up so that I was right in his face. I was shocked at first, then scared- I remember the stench of whiskey on his breath. It was then that Jack threatened my life."

Brian looks away from me, clenching his jaw. I can tell he's holding back tears. "That cunt of a mother of yours was at the kitchen table drinking and ignored everything. Still, as scared as I was by your father, I could handle the threat to my life- not well, but I could risk that. Then he said he knew that Michael was my son and that it wasn't only my life that would be in danger. It was Mikey's, too. Then he talked about Vic, my supposedly 'disgusting, disease-ridden, weak and fudgepacking brother'... finally, he said that thanks to me, you, Brian, were gonna get it bad... as soon as you got home he said, he was going to beat you into oblivion."

"That must have been that time you kept me at your place for a whole week." Brian whispers.

I nod. "I was hoping he'd calm down and not remember the conversation- he'd been so sloshed, it was very possible he wouldn't. But..."

"...he did." Brian finishes for me.

Justin is crying full on. "What happened?" He asks.

Brian and I both look at him and shake our heads. He doesn't want to know.

"What HAPPENED?" He insists.

Brian sighs. "Justin, let's just leave it that after my week at the Novotny's I went home- and the next two weeks after that I spent at Allegheny General in ICU. You don't need to know the details." He shudders and I squeeze Brian's knee, which is still under my hand.

"I wanted to kill the fucking bastard. He'd hurt Brian so badly; because of me. And I was scared what would happen if I interfered again. I called family services- those useless fucks- and that also made it worse for Brian. I was truly frightened of the man and what he might do to Brian- to Mikey, Vic, me... he was such a violent man..." my voice trails off.

"Debbie." Brian says quietly, pain etched into his voice. 

And I can tell he's feeling responsible for what Jack did. I can tell that he's about to apologize. Practically the only time the fucker apologizes is when it's completely not his fault! I hold up my hand in protest, get up and sit by him on the sofa; I gently wrap my arms around him. "Brian, honey, nothing that your father did back then - to you, me or anybody- NONE of it was your fault. He was just a sick fuck who had a taste for blood; he was a coward who chose to vent his frustrations on a child. He was not a good man. But you are. Do you hear me?"

Brian blinks back tears but says nothing.

"Brian, you're nothing like that man. You're nothing like that cold bitch of a mother you have, either. I don't know how it happened, but you survived and grew up to be a remarkable, loving, somewhat fucked up asshole with friends, a devoted lover, a son... well, you grew up to have us: a rag-tag family who drove through a storm that would have sunk the Love Boat- because we heard that you were hurt." I give him a gentle squeeze before releasing him. Then I look at Justin. 

Justin... Justin's a mess and he's looking at Brian- who is looking at some spot on the wall across the room. I notice one tear coursing down Brian's cheek before he swipes it away and huffs in frustration. Justin then turns his attention to me. "Debbie..." his voice is faltering. "Deb, I'm so sorry. Really, I am. I didn't know. I was just angry like I said. I'm sorry for yelling all those awful things... I'm sorry!" He gets up and comes over to sit by me on the sofa, silently begging for forgiveness with his eyes. I smile at him and am suddenly on the receiving end of a lung-squashing hug- I must have taught him how to do that. "I'm sorry..." he repeats in a whisper.

I hug him back. "It's alright, Sunshine. I understand." I whisper back. I feel Brian get up behind me and hear him walk away. The front door opens and Justin and I break our hug and look over to see Brian leave the house. We watch him through the windows as he pulls his robe around him and wanders down the path towards the dock. "Justin, maybe you should--"

Before I finish, Justin is up and out the door. I smile to myself, realizing that my entire family is full of drama queens. Me included. I wonder silently if telling Brian and Justin about that incident with Jack was wise; but at the same time, I'm glad it's out in the open. In so many ways, I'm Brian's only real Mom, and I don't want him thinking I just stood by and watched him get hurt. Still, I know it hurts him to know what his fucking fuck of a father did to one of the few adults who really loved and cared for him as a child. I know he's taking responsibility for that, taking on the blame for it-- and I'll have to talk to him about that even more. The jerk doesn't realize that the weight of the world doesn't rest on his shoulders. Ass. 

I get up and wipe the tears off my cheeks, watching Justin disappear into the woods behind Brian. I smile. I smile because they have each other and deserve each other. They deserve to be happy. And despite all these fucking bumps in the road, overall, they are.


	34. Farago or bust?

POV: JUSTIN

"Brian!" I yell, feeling the drips cascading from the branches over me. I lose my footing and slip in the mud near the dock. "Brian, stop!" Fuck it! I scramble to get up tasting mud and blood in my mouth. "Brian!!" I shout again, running after him, mindless of the pain from an apparent cut on my mouth. I run out into the clearing at the dock and practically crash into him. Brian's just standing there, a far away look in his eyes, ostensibly staring at the sunken boats by the dock platform. "Brian..." my voice is suddenly uncertain, hesitant. I can't tell what he's thinking or feeling- and that scares me. I usually can. "Brian...?"

He seems to hear me only now; he turns to me and gets a pained look when he sees the mud and blood on my face. "What happened?" He asks quietly. 

"Nothing. It's nothing. I slipped is all. Forget it. Are you okay?" I find that I'm out of breath, although I've only run about 100 yards. "Bri, are you okay?"

"Again with this 'Bri' thing?" He jokes weakly, but his voice is sad. He reaches his hand over to gently wipe the dirt from my face. 

I huff, exasperated. "Brian, quit it. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say," he whispers, focussed on cleaning my face.

"Bull shit!" I push his hand away. "Brian, what the fuck happened?"

"Christ, Justin, let it go. I have." His voice is strangely far away.

"No you fucking haven't! ICU for two weeks??? That's... That's... argh!!!" I can't find words.

"Listen, even Deb told you that you don't want to know. So shut up and leave me alone. And go clean yourself up. I need some time alone right now." He turns and walks away from me, down the path that eventually leads up to the top cabin. I start to go after him but there's a stiffness to his back that makes me hesitate. So I simply watch him as he disappears into the deep shadows of the woods surrounding him.

Eventually, I turn and walk back to our cabin. I find Debbie sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. I sit across from her. Like with Brian a little bit ago, it takes a few moments before she even registers that I'm there. When it seems she sees me, I finally speak. "Deb?"

"Hi, Sunshine. Did you catch up to him?"

"Yeah. But he said he needed to be alone."

She nods. 

"Debbie, what happened?"

"Justin, sweetie, sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie."

"This dog isn't sleeping. It sure as hell isn't lying! What happened?" 

She sighs. "It's not my story to tell, Sunshine. And I'm pretty sure Brian doesn't want to talk about it. So let it go. Just be there for him, as I talked to you about before. Christ, I never thought all this shit would come back to haunt the kid so vividly. I thought he'd put it behind him, as impossible as that would seem..."

"You don't put shit like this behind you! You have to talk about it! Untended wounds fester, they don't heal!"

Debbie smiles and affectionately cups my chin. "You're so young yet so wise, sweetie. He's lucky to have you." 

I wait for her to say more, but she just looks away sadly and gets up. "What, that's it? That's all you have to say?"

She smiles slightly, nods, and goes to the back door. "Just be there for him, Justin." She repeats. "And don't push him too hard. He's been through hell, and is going through hell. He needs you right now." She says simply before leaving the cabin. I stare after her, shocked. I don't know how long I'm sitting here staring after her incredulously before I hear Brian come in the front door behind me.

"God, it's wet out there. But at least, so far it would seem that storm is staying away."

I turn and stare at him. Are these people crazy? It's like nothing happened. 

He glances at me. "Something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong! God!" 

Then Brian comes over and grips my arm tightly. "I have had enough drama for a lifetime today alone, Justin. Drop it." He hisses. I look at him, surprised at the intensity of his tone. He stares me down, challenging me. 

I clench my jaw but keep my thoughts to myself. Fine. If he wants to talk, he'll talk. Me pushing him has been part of why all this has gotten so out of control, so I won't push this time. Although in the long run, I still believe talking helps. "Fine. But if you want to talk, I'm here. Okay?"

His expression softens and he pulls me into a hug. "Thanks for not pushing, Sunshine." He says eventually.

I sigh. "Yeah. Sure. You know it goes against my nature, though."

He chuckles. 

Just then there's a tentative knock on the back door. Brian rolls his eyes, but leads me to the door. He grins when he sees who it is. Lindsay is standing there with Gus, smiling hesitantly. She looks at me questioningly as if asking whether it was a good idea to show up. I give her a reassuring smile and open the door. "Hey, Linds!"

"Hey. Is this a good time? Gus was having a fit and wanted to see his 'Daddee' and 'Jusin'. I wasn't sure if I should bring him down, but he was kind of flipping out." 

Brian has already lifted his son and the baby bag from Lindsay's arms and is cooing at the giggling boy. It's apparent that Gus has been crying recently, but he seems more than fine now. Brian takes the child into the livingroom and I look at Lindsay. "Is everything okay now?" She whispers. 

I smile. "Well, it will be for the time being. Gus is just what the doctor ordered, I think."

"I thought another visit with Gus might help. Michael told me that the nightmares are back." Her voice is hushed. We can hear Brian in the other room giggling along with his son.

I'm taken aback- for one, that she already knows about the dreams; and two, that Michael would reveal such a thing. "Michael told you about that?"

"Justin, Brian and I go back many years. We even lived together junior year in college when we were both so broke we had to pool our resources to afford a tiny apartment near campus. He went through a spell of having those fucking nightmares then- it was after a visit from his father. A visit that didn't go well at all."

I'm thinking that I haven't talked with anyone who actually lived with Brian while he was going through this... "May I ask- what did you do? What happened? How did you deal? It gets so emotional and he gets so torn apart... I've never seen him like that before..."

We're still standing by the back door and she pulls me a little towards the refrigerator, since Brian's right in the next room playing with Gus. I cock an eyebrow at her, wondering what she's doing. "It's not that what I'm going to tell you is a secret from him, Justin," she clarifies. "It's just not a topic he needs to be reminded of at the moment. It's been a very emotional few days for him - and he loves his time with Gus." 

She clears her throat. "In junior year, Brian's nightmares lasted a little over a month while we were rooming together. I of course was there to wake him, to comfort him. I have to tell you, those nights when I'd be jarred awake by his screams - they were terrifying; several times our neighbors called the cops thinking that someone was being murdered because his cries were so blood curdling. Some nights, once I'd calmed him down and held him, I could coax him to tell me what he'd been dreaming- and they were horrific. Other nights, he'd just cling to me- and you and I both know, Brian Kinney doesn't 'do' cling. I was really worried about him. 

"After the first week or so, I started to simply sleep in his bed so I could be right there when they started and I could wake him more quickly. Towards the end, I had gotten to the point of just pretending to go to sleep so that when his breathing evened out, I could watch his face and wake him at the first signs of distress. On nights that he had his nightmares, he'd thrash around until I could wake him. It was awful." I nod- that's familiar. "As I said, I was so fucking concerned about him. Still, the whole time, he continually tried to get me to wear earplugs and he even offered to get a hotel room even though he had no money, all so he'd quit disturbing me-- but there was no way I was going to leave him to go through that terror night after night alone. Brian's stubborn, but you and I of all people know how to get through to him. And he really *was* scared- I'd never seen him so unwound. Unlike his usual self, I don't think Brian really wanted to be alone those nights, as much as he tried to get me to. You certainly know that Brian hates to be vulnerable; he hates it when people see a vulnerable side to him. During the days, he'd be angry and lash out at me, try to kick me out, try to leave, drink, go clubbing, trick, smoke pack after pack of cigarettes, not go to classes. It was hard, but I knew what he was doing- I'd just lash back or let him rant or let him do whatever the fuck he needed to do for pain management. You've certainly seen that side of him- both sides."

"Have I ever. This trip, though, he hasn't been pushing me away as much as you might expect. He's had hissy fits and rages, but only a couple times has he said he should just leave." 

"Well, Brian's changed a bit lately- subtly, but we all see it. He's still an asshole, but his heart peeks out just a *little* more nowadays. That's thanks to you, Justin. He may never say the words, Sunshine, but I think you've gotten the message."

I nod, a small smile on my lips. "It's thanks to Gus, too. And I'm glad he can say the words to Gus."

She smiles. "Anyway, of course, we were both exhausted all the time, him acting out and me constantly reminding myself that it was Brian being Brian- and it was the nights that really reminded me that it was Brian being Brian because when I'd crawl into bed with him, he wouldn't protest or lash out. He'd just look at me - I'm sure you've seen that little boy look he can get..." I nod. It's a very sweet but often sad and vulnerable look. She gets a little misty eyed. "All the ranting and raving of the day would go out the window and he'd put his arms around me and close his eyes. All the while, I knew he was afraid to fall asleep and I was afraid I would before he finally did. He was a wreck during that time."

"Why did the dreams finally stop?" I ask her.

"I don't know, Justin. They happened almost every night that month or so, and then simply stopped- well, over the entire year we lived together, he did have a few more here and there; but it was just that particular month or so that it was really bad. But finally, they stopped and things were back to as normal as they can be with Brian, and we were both sleeping, me finally back in my own bed."

"This is the first time in all the years I've known him and slept with him that he's had nightmares this bad. It's as though he's actually reliving the physical agony and emotional pain. It's... It's..." I feel my jaw clench. "It's... Fuck. Hearing him in that much anguish is... is... well, it's fucking killing me! I feel so goddamned helpless, you know!?"

She puts a finger to her lips to remind me to stay quiet while simultaneously nodding bitterly. "I know. Justin, I know. I finally talked to Michael about it one weekend when he came to the college to visit Brian. I didn't know who else to talk to and I needed to get some answers- so, when Brian went off to the liquor store, I cornered his best friend who I thought would certainly know something. At the time, after hearing Brian's emotional and heartrending recounts of several of his dreams, I thought that for sure the dreams were mostly borne out of a tortured imagination. I mean, you've *heard* the nightmares, Justin- you can see how I'd think that; at that time, I knew him pretty well as a person but he'd never really talked about his childhood at all. He's secretive about his homelife as a child, as you know. All he'd ever mentioned if it came up was just that his Dad knocked him around sometimes when he'd had a few." 

I nod. Yeah. Brian had said that to me, too. But unlike Lindsay, I knew these nightmares Brian described were real. I'd known right away. But I don't bother to tell her that.

"I just couldn't believe Brian could have possibly survived that level of abuse were his nightmares actually real- especially not survive so well. It's not that I doubted him at all. But the subconscious most often distorts real-life experiences. So, as I said, I asked Michael about Brian's homelife and he told me some of what Brian had actually endured- and I was fucking floored. Michael had actually witnessed Jack break Brian's ribs and split his lip- he said he didn't go over to the Kinney's much after that- Brian hadn't wanted him there in the first place, but he'd shown up there one day and Brian reluctantly let him in. Jack whirled in drunk and, as Michael put it, 'happened', catching Brian (and Michael) by surprise. And that incident, he said, was relatively minor injury-wise compared to what Michael saw when Brian showed up on his doorstep. When he could fucking make it that far. But you know all that shit, I guess, Justin. I mean, you know his parents had to take him to the hospital a few times, right? Never in an ambulance- too expensive. So they were probably driving him there drunk off their asses..." she adds bitterly.

I inhale sharply and manage to nod, not really wanting to hear any more of that.

"Anyway, at that point, Brian returned from the liquor store and immediately knew what was up from the mood in that tiny apartment room. But we all brushed it off and never talked about it. Instead, we all got roaring drunk and high and went to the local gay club.

"But from what Michael told me, it was then that I knew that the nightmares weren't borne out of a tortured imagination. They were borne out of a tortured childhood. And it killed me that Brian was unable to stop so vividly reliving it in his dreams. It kills me now, too, that they're back. Oh- there was one other thing I discussed with Michael before Brian got back to the apartment, which might be helpful to you. I told Michael how I'd been dealing with the situation so far and he said all you can really do is be there for him. I guess he slept over at the Novotny's as often as he could and he'd usually sleep in Michael's bed with him. So, Michael dealt with it early on- I guess Deb did too; Deb would take over dealing with the really nasty nightmares. They came and went in spells. But Michael said to do just what comes naturally. He said the friends Brian trusts enough to be close to him would know what to do by instinct- whether it's the same thing as another or not doesn't matter. There aren't THAT many of us. And after all, there's more than one way to skin a cat." 

I cringe slightly at the saying - I've always hated it, but in this context it just feels wrong. I choose to ignore it and focus more on the fact that Michael and Deb have both directly dealt with Brian's night terrors- they haven't for years and years, but it strikes me. I don't know why that hadn't occurred to me before. "Great minds must think alike, Linds." I mutter. "I actually have started doing what you started doing in the final weeks of your experience with Brian that month. It's exhausting, but I lie awake to watch him sleep. Waiting for any perceptible twitch on Brian's face that looks like it's the beginning of nightmare." Guess Michael's right about Brian's friends instinctively knowing what to do. 

She looks at me with concern. "Yeah, sweetie. You look a bit run-down. Take naps during the day, okay?"

I smile wanly. My mood is for shit now. 

"So, sorry to be so longwinded, Justin- I just want you to know that a few of us, including me, know what you're dealing with- at least somewhat since the rest of us went through it with him many years ago. But, just be strong. I don't know what triggered the nightmares this time- unless it was your father beating the shit out of him- or emotionally hurting you, which is the more likely trigger. Plus, there are lot of other things going on in Brian's life lately: the stress of losing his job and all of his possessions, the stress of the election, then that murder case involving Rita Montgomery, including that awful carwreck in which he got so hurt and he was so worried about you, there's the stress of starting a new job in a place he's never lived, and the stress and pain of leaving the only family that ever loved and supported him behind - besides you, of course... it all accumulates and even the Great Brian Kinney can start to show cracks under all that pressure. Shit. When I spell out what he's been through in the last couple of months alone, I'm kind of amazed he hasn't gone stark raving mad! You've been through a lot too, sweetie."

She gently reaches up and caresses my cheek, wiping a lone errant tear away with her thumb. In so many ways, she's like Brian. "He loves you, Justin honey. He loves you and Gus in there more than anything. He wouldn't put you through this if he could help it. I'm sure you've learned more about his life as a child than you ever could believe possible- I know how shocking and enraging it is. I know I personally found myself in the bathroom puking my guts out more times than I care to remember when I'd learned details of what Bri went through."

I feel the color drain from my face but I simply nod, listening to her insights. "Thanks, Linds. I honestly didn't know you knew. I just can't believe it. Does Mel know?"

"What do you think? First of all, it's not for me to tell- I'm just telling you this because you're going through it, and it might help you and Brian. Secondly, if she knew the extent of it, she wouldn't let Brian within a five-mile radius of Gus- she'd assert that Brian should never see his son period, given that he had Jack as a role model. She's not very understanding when it comes to Brian. You know that."

I smile a bit wickedly and my vision blurs with the unshed tears. "You know why that is, don't you?"

She cocks an eyebrow. 

"She's jealous. Mel knows there's a part of your heart she'll never have because it's devoted to Brian."

She laughs and blushes a little. "Well, Brian and I have a special bond- we have since we met. But I love Mel, and Brian has you and that's what matters." We hear a squeal from the next room. "And we all have Gus, the little rascal." She adds.

She grins and I smile, the tension of the conversation we just had dissipating somewhat. I love Lindsay. She's a good woman, Mom and friend. I lean up and give her a peck on the cheek. "Shall we go see what the hellions are up to?" I ask.

She hooks her elbow in mine and chuckles. "No good, I'll bet you." We walk arm in arm into the living room.

There, on the floor, are Brian and Gus playing with the Daddy Bear. Brian's leaning against the sofa, his long, beautiful legs splayed in front of him. Gus is perched between his knees, facing him, with Daddy Bear between his legs, also facing Brian. 

"More, Daddee?" Gus giggles. 

"Yes, please! I'd love some! It's very good!"

I look closely and see Gus pretend pouring. Lindsay and I bust out laughing and Brian looks up sharply, alerted by our outburst that we've entered the room. 

"What's so fuc-- what's so funny?" His eyes are shooting daggers at us, daring us to say it. 

"Pigs must be flying somewhere-- Brian Aiden Kinney is at a tea party!" I manage.

His glaring demeanor suddenly disappears and Brian smiles. "Why, yes I am." Then he pretends to drink from the cup Gus just poured. "And it's a very nice one, isn't it, Gus?"

"Yes, Daddee."

It is so cute and so un-Brian-like yet so Brian-like at the same time, both Lindsay and I glance at each other, walk over to him, lean down and each give him a kiss on the cheek. Gus giggles at us. "Do me! Do me!"

"You want a movie kiss or a kiss on your cheeks?" Lindsay asks.

"Cheeks!"

After we kiss his cheeks he sets off on a laughing jag. 

Brian picks up the make-believe teapot. "Mommy, 'Jusin', would you care to join us at the table? The crumpets are delicious. Gus is an excellent party-thrower. Unkie Emmett better watch out, eh, Sonny Boy?"

Gus is still laughing and Brian's playing only makes him more hysterical and he can't answer. Not that he'd have a clue what Brian's asking him.

Lindsay and I sit on either side of Brian's legs facing each other. Brian pretends to pour us both a cup of tea and then he hands around the make-believe plate of crumpets. And so, for the rest of the afternoon, I have an experience that not long ago- hell, not even an hour ago- I would have ever expected to have: I play tea party with Brian Kinney. And it's amazing how many make-believe carbs Brian's willing to scarf down.

Things are going to be okay.


	35. Farago or bust?

Thank EVERYone for their patience-- I *know* this has been forEVER in coming- I"ve been working on it, taking the story one direction, then scratching that, and going another, then suffering through computer crashes and viruses and ARGH!-- I also don't have a beta, so I read, reread, rerererererereread... ;)

Anyway, this is a little fluff for the boys before the storm (literal and figurative) really begins again. The next chapter holds some pretty intense and cathartic stuff for Brian (and Justin in his love for Brian)-- so I gave them this respite first. I hope you don't have to re-read too much to remember what's going on-- Brian sort of recaps things in the beginning... And again, thanks for your patience! 

Feedback much appreciated!   
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37

POV: BRIAN

God. I need a vacation from my vacation. So far, we've suffered through my beloved yet sometimes annoying best friend Mikey's incessant worry about Ben leaving him and his constant neediness for my time and support, interrupting Sunshine's and my time; getting trapped on that godforesaken island, having to build a makeshift lean-to in order to protect ourselves from the beginnings of a huge storm; days of suffering through this same storm that knocked out the power (which is STILL out) and turned the land into a swamp; a lightning fire at the public dock; me getting jumped and beaten to a pulp by Justin's father; Justin losing his place in his father's family for good; Hunter and his undeterrable attentions; Justin getting upset over feeling unloved by his father; my fucking horrific nightmares reliving Jack's abuse starting up again- which have terrified Justin to the point that he's not sleeping so he can be there to wake me in case I start to have one; the entire freakshow of a family showing up having heard from Mikey and Ben that I'd been hurt- endangering their fucking lives driving through this storm; then much of the freakshow learning about my night terrors- either learning I have them or that they're back; then Justin hurting Deb's feelings in defense of me, accusing her of not protecting me as a child-- and Mikey now completely pissed at Justin for having made Deb cry; then Debbie revealing to me and Justin that Jack had fucking threatened her entire family that he‘d kill them if she interfered on my behalf... Good God, we haven't even been here a week yet and I'm exhausted. And I’m sure I’ve even missed something in this litany of disasters. I shudder and decide to focus on the fact that the sun has at least come out- even if it is temporary, it’s a VERY welcome change of pace.

I sigh. It's almost dinnertime and tonight, everyone's meeting up at the Lookout cabin where the munchers, Gus, Debbie, Emmett and Ted are staying. Justin says it's actually the biggest cabin on the property square-footage-wise and bedroom-wise. Good thing, too, with that fucking crowd. 

"Hey, since the weather's holding out why don't we hike up?" I suggest.

"It's a fairly steep climb, Brian."

I snort. "Um, Justin, I workout and you don't- I can fucking handle a steep climb better than you can, for Chrissakes." 

"Well, but you're also much older than I am and you have broken ribs, Bri."

God!! "Quit calling me ‘Bri‘!" I yell. But something in Justin's grin tells me that's never going to happen. "And I am not *much* older than you; finally, it’s not like I’ll be fucking crawling up the hill on my belly for Chrissakes- my broken ribs will be fine." 

Justin just smirks and swats my arm. Predictable.

As we're getting ready to go, the phone rings. Justin answers. "Hello?... Oh, hi Michael..." Justin's voice is tense, given his recent semi-attack on Deb about not getting me out of the Kinney house of horror when I was a child. She cried and Mikey was furious with Justin. Luckily, none of the others had stuck around to hear it, having left at the first sign that trouble was brewing. "Micha-- Mich--" And it's obvious Mikey still IS furious with him- Justin's apparently getting an earful from him right now; he can't get a word in edgewise. I grab the receiver just in time to catch Mikey yelling how Justin had better not pull any shit like that again to hurt his ‘Ma‘, or he'd fucking kill him. I roll my eyes.

"Mikey?" I interrupt. "Mikey, it's me. Michael! Shut up, Michael!" Fuck me!

He pauses. "Brian?"

Finally! "Yeah, Michael. Listen, lay off Justin, okay? He apologized to Debbie and Deb accepted. He feels awful for this afternoon- he was just angry about something he had no control over because he wasn't there. Sunshine was simply lashing out at someone who was. If I hadn't had all these fucking nightmares again, none of this shit would have ever happened, so don‘t blame Justin..." Justin rolls his eyes and mutters something about how it's not my fucking fault and how I'm a stubborn, broken record always taking the blame for other people‘s mistakes.

"Brian, quit taking responsibility and tell Justin if he ever pulls that kind of shit with Ma again, I'm all over him like white on fucking rice!" Michael hisses.

"I'm sure he'll be quaking in his boots hearing that.” I try to suppress a snicker at Mikey’s bravado. ’Like white on fucking rice’? Wonder what ’80’s movie he got *that* from…? I decide to change the subject. “You boys heading up to the other cabin for dinner soon?"

"Yeah, I was actually calling YOU to see if you wanted a lift. You only, though. No Justin."

Oh, good lord. "Michael, drop it already about Justin. Listen, we’re going by foot- why don't you all hike up there with us? Bring flashlights in case it's dark when we leave."

Justin snaps his fingers like he'd forgotten that and goes into the back to get flashlights for us.

"How far is it?" Michael asks, sounding wary of a hike.

"Aw, Mikey- the whole property's a total of 8 acres for Chrissakes. You'll make it. Justin says it's kind of steep though."

Michael huffs a sigh. "Fine."

"We'll meet you by your cabin in about 5 minutes. Justin says one of the trailheads is near you.” I lower my voice, “And Mikey? I mean it: don’t be a shit to Justin, okay? He‘s been through enough hell the last few days because of me. He doesn‘t need more." I add while Justin’s still getting the flashlights. 

I hang up and Justin comes trotting up with the flashlights. “Hey, Bri, thanks for putting in a good word for me with Michael. He was starting to sound like he was going to slash my throat while I slept. And I really do feel bad for Debbie."

I wave him off. "Mikey'll get over it. If he hasn't yet, I'll just keep after him till he does. Debbie will pound on him about it too. No worries.” 

I grab a bottle of wine off the counter and we’re both suddenly startled as we hear the refrigerator cooler motor start and the lights around us turn on. "Holy shit!" Justin exclaims.

"Alright! And then there was light! Power's back on! Fuck, finally!! Justin, could you go around and turn off all but one light? I'll put on the back porch light." 

Justin goes around turning off the lights and I flip on the one by the back porch. Given the last few days, I've come to realize that this isn't just the quietest part of the island- it's also the darkest at night. I want to see the cabin I’m walking home to tonight and not have to feel around for it like a blind man. Justin comes over to me, grinning. I kiss him on the nose. “Now c’mon, let's go. And we‘ll see who can better handle the steep climb." I wink and pull Justin with me, closing the door behind us. We meet Ben, Mikey and Hunter over at their cabin. 

"This way." Justin says to the group of us, gesturing towards a path through the woods and over rocks leading up to the others‘ cabin. We finally get there and I'm not even winded. Ha! And I notice that Justin's 10 paces behind me, huffing a little. I grin at him. "A little out of breath there, Sunshine?" 

He just sticks his tongue out at me while simultaneously flipping me off. "I'm just fine, thank you." Uh huh. 

I follow Ben up the steps to the porch. The place is pandemonium- which is typical when this 'family' gets together. I hesitate. Normally I tolerate these family gatherings- tonight, with my aching body, I‘d rather just be at home in a nice hot bath. Justin laughs and pushes me to open the screen door. "Don't tell me you’ve lost your appetite after eating all those air crumpets at tea this afternoon." He grins, referring to my make believe tea party with Gus that Lindsay and Sunshine joined.

"Breathe a word about that to anyone and you're dead!" I hiss. He just looks at me with big innocent baby blues and I groan.

We enter the cabin and Lindsay, Mel, Emmett and Ted look up from the table where they're playing cards. Gus is on the floor playing with blocks and Debbie's in the kitchen. Michael, Ben and Hunter go to help her. 

"Why, Brian, would you like a spot of tea?" Emmett drawls in a mock British accent. 

I glare at Lindsay who looks at me guiltily. I see that the ‘gang’ already knows about the tea party. Fuck...

"Daddee! Jusin!"

"Hi, Sonny Boy!" I lean down and scoop Gus up, wincing just a little because of my bruises and broken ribs. "So, Deb- what fine slop is on the menu tonight?" I call out to her as I kiss my son and give him a tickle.

"Clam chowder, lobster, salad and for dessert, crumpets." She pokes her head out of the kitchen and winks at me.

Justin is giggling beside me.

"Christ." I mutter. "Okay, everyone, *fine*. So what if I played with my son and we played..." I pause because it really does sound ridiculous. "...tea party?"

Gus claps gleefully. "Tea party! Daddee came to my tea party! An‘ Mommy an‘ Jusin!"

"I think it's sweet." Emmett smiles. I snort. He *would*, the queen.

Hunter comes out of the kitchen and eyes me, mouthing a carrot suggestively. "I think it's sweet, too." He leers at me. 

Next to me Justin groans; I roll my eyes and put Gus back down to play with his blocks. I walk over with Justin and sit at the table. "UNO, huh? I hate that game." I mutter.

"Yeah, well, you aren't playing, so fuck off."

"My goodness, Theodore, what crawled up your ass and died?" I smirk.

"He's just mad 'cause he's losing," Emmett offers.

"Well, you keep giving me 'draw fours'. Ted bitches.

"Now, now, boys. Play nice." Lindsay says.

“Shut up, Lindsay!” Mel snaps. I look at her hand and it would appear she’s losing too. She’s got a load of cards. Lindsay sticks her tongue out at her and drops a ‘draw four’. I snicker- Mel smacks the table with her palm and then starts picking up the cards with a sigh.

\---------------------------------------------------

The evening passes pretty much like it started: loud and somewhat chaotic. When Justin and I get home it's after 10. "God. What an ordeal."

"It wasn't that bad. And you won three games of UNO." Sunshine smiles at me, shirking off his coat.

"…." 

I go to the sofa and sit down gingerly, holding my sides. Justin replenishes the fire and stokes it; he then comes over and gently straddles me, kissing my forehead. I cup his ass and pull him closer, our cocks rubbing through the fabric of our jeans. I cock an eyebrow and he grins evilly. 

"What do you say we move this into the bedroom?"

I follow Justin in and we quickly strip. Suddenly, there's a crack of thunder and we both groan. "Here we go again..." I mutter before pushing Justin into bed and crawling in after him. I can’t believe the storm has returned…


	36. Farago or bust?

AN:   
Anyway,this was a very difficult chapter to write- I suspect it will be difficult to read, too- You're forwarned. I didn't even know what to rate it- it's between R and Adults Only- in my mind, anyway.

BTW: I know I've been off the site for a loooong time-- I apologize to readers! I visit it ALL the time and love it and am so glad it's still active, but I have a hard time posting and going through and taking out all those question mark quote marks etc.- if anyone has any tricks how to avoid those when posting going through the document and painstakingly retyping punctuation, any suggestions are much welcome- I have continued writing and have new stuff to post, but it's just so time consuming. And when I read a fiction with those marks in there, I find it verry distracting.

 

Reviews welcome- thank you!  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV BRIAN

The next thing I realize is I'm screaming and there are a couple of hands jostling me. What the fuck? I have a vague sense of unease- like there's something I really don't want to remember but whatever it is just resurfaced in my memory. 

Justin is next to me, shaking me awake, yelling at me; his voice is in a total panic. 

"BRIAN! FUCK! WAKE UP! WHAT'S GOING ON WITH YOU!?"

"Juss.... Justin... Just please don't let me fall back asleep..." Incredibly, that is "my" weak voice, very groggily begging Justin to wake me fully and keep me that way. Fuck...

"BRIAN! Wake the fuck up! You're having a nightmare!"

I open my eyes to see a flash of lightning illuminate Justin's very worried face as he leans over me; his hands are on my shoulders, still shaking me. I squeeze my eyes closed and shake myself awake. I try to sit up and I feel Justin''s hands carefully helping me. My broken ribs and bruises are hurting like hell right now, and I suspect that's because I was screaming so hard- and probably thrashing in my sleep. 

Once I'm propped against my pillow, Justin's gentle arms wrap around me, his head rests gently on my chest- and I realize he's sobbing- he's fucking crying. I open my eyes fully and I look down at him, his face lit only by the two candles on the nightstand beside me. "Justin?" My voice is so tentative, it doesn't sound like me at all. But what about me in this place is like me anyway?

Justin says nothing, but his crying gets slightly louder... 

"Justin..." I repeat,,more firmly this time.

"Brian... what did she do to you?" He asks plaintively.

I look at him as he cries- and I'm confused. "What?" While I know there's something terrible from my childhood I don't want to remember that came out in my dream, I'm used to that lately. I'm becoming immune to Jack dreams. So, who is *she*?

"Bri... Brian! What the fuck did she do to you...?"

I think a moment, that feeling of unease getting stronger- there's something - something I *really* don't want to face or deal with... So, I shut it out. "What the fuck, Justin? Get off me!"

"Brian..." Justin sobs. "Brian, what the fuck did Joan do to you?"

I sit bolt upright in shock. "WHAT?" I ignore the jolt of pain from the sudden movement.

"Brian, you were crying in your sleep, you were fucking weeping, and you kept begging your mother not to touch you! You begged her not to touch you *there*!"

I gulp. All semblance of 'Brian Fucking Kinney' seems to be gone. "Wh...what?"

Justin doesn't say anything more at the moment; he simply holds me gently, *clings* to me, really. And I buckle under the flood of memories that suddenly come up; memories that *can't* be true about fucking Joan- memories that are not memories... I mean, they must be out of my twisted imagination, right?... they must be. They can't be real.

What the fuck brought this on???

Justin looks up into my face; he's still clinging to me. "Oh, Brian..." he whispers over the storm. He leans up and plants feather light kisses on my face. I try to focus on them, on the feeling of Justin leaning on me gently, on his kisses- and I try to ignore the vivid, horrific 'memories' that have surfaced for the first time. "Oh, God Brian..." Justin mutters. 

Oh, God, no. There's no way.

I go into protector mode- I've upset Justin too much in the last few days; and I need to push down these memories. That's easy, right? They aren't real, anyway. I raise my hand to comb my fingers through his hair.

"Brian- what happened to you? And don't say you don''t want to talk about it. This is new, Brian. Joan fucking molested--"

"Justin! Shut it! That's not true! I shift slightly and close my eyes, trying to stop my tears. Justin, forget this, okay? I really don't want to think about it right now anyway, let alone talk about it. Just keep me awake.... don't let me fall back to sleep." I add. I don't want to dream that nightmare again...

"Okay... I'll keep you awake." Justin sighs and leans his head gently in the crook of my neck. He strokes my torso tenderly. "I love you, Brian." He whispers.

I take a deep breath; despite my efforts to squelch the memories- no! the dream images!- they won't go away. I keep my eyes closed and feel my jaw clench. I can't believe it. I can't believe any of what I just dreamed is possible. 

Joanie- Joan, my shit of a mother; my holy roller Catholic shit of a mother... molested me? No way. I've never had a nightmare like that- reliving Jack kicking the living shit out of me is one thing. I remember that; I've had horrific nightmares about those times. But this is new. 

 

This can't be true because this is... well, this just can't be true. I feel myself retreat within myself; a familiar place. Nice safe walls around me. No one can touch me here.

Not Jack. Not even Joan.

Fuck. I feel Justin lift his head to look at me; I feel him thumb away tears from my cheeks. I don't open my eyes.

"Brian... don't fall asleep." He says in a hushed voice, keeping his promise.

"I'm not. Trust me- I'm wide awake." I mutter. I feel him place a kiss on my cheek. I find I'm still running my fingers through Justin's hair; I don't know when this habit started, but it's soothing. Still, I feel very far away.

"You really frightened me just now, Brian." Justin says. 

"Sorry, Justin. Really." That's my voice. Wow. Huh.

"You don't need to be sorry Brian. I'm just worried about you. Really worried about you. About what you've been through and what you're remembering right now."

"Don't worry about me, Sunshine. I'll be fine." I shiver from the cold in the cabin and I absently pull Justin even closer for warmth.

"But I do worry, Brian. I'm scared for you, you know? I half wish you could see yourself when you have these nightmares and especially the one you just had. Brian, you were totally petrified- you were terrified. I've never seen anyone like that."

Suddenly I'm not far away anymore- this fucker holding me has this weird affect on me... I open my eyes and look at Justin; he's studying my face with concern. 

No, I can't deal with this. Not this and not the dream and what it means; I suddenly feel completely dulled down, like my emotions are deadened. My hand falls away from Justin's hair; I suck in a breath and release it slowly, closing my eyes again.

"Brian?"

I don't answer. I feel numb. Blissfully.

"Hey- Brian- Don't fall asleep..."

I'm anything but falling asleep at the moment, Sunshine, I think- despite the fact that my eyes are still closed. 

"Brian!" Justin shakes me slightly. "Stay awake."

Christ! I suddenly wish Justin wasn't here. I need to stay numb. "I'm awake, Justin." I say, my voice sounding monotone, almost robotic.

"Aw fuck. Brian, don't shut down on me..." Justin says.

When have I ever shut down on him? Where's that coming from?

"Brian, please..." Justin's voice is tense.

I open my eyes and look at him. His eyes are desperate; but I don't feel anything at the moment and I like it that way. What's that Pink Floyd song? 'Comfortably Numb', I think. 

Hello.  
Is there anybody in there?   
Just nod if you can hear me.  
Is there anyone home? 

Come on, now.  
I hear you're feeling down.  
Well I can ease your pain,  
Get you on your feet again.

Relax.  
I need some information first.  
Just the basic facts:  
Can you show me where it hurts? 

There is no pain, you are receding.  
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.  
You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.  
When I was a child I had a fever.  
My hands felt just like two balloons.  
Now I got that feeling once again.  
I can't explain, you would not understand.  
This is not how I am.  
I have become comfortably numb.

Ok.  
Just a little pinprick. [ping]  
There'll be no more --aaaaaahhhhh!  
But you may feel a little sick.

Can you stand up?   
I do believe it's working. good.  
That'll keep you going for the show.  
Come on it's time to go.

There is no pain, you are receding.  
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.  
You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'  
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,  
Out of the corner of my eye.  
I turned to look but it was gone.  
I cannot put my finger on it now.  
The child is grown, the dream is gone.  
I have become comfortably numb. 

"Brian? Please say something..."

I barely hear what he's saying. "What do you want me to say?" I find my voice is a mere whisper.

"What did she do? Where did you go? Brian- you're a million miles away."

"Justin, I *want* to be a million miles away - literally and figuratively. Leave me alone."

He sighs. "That's not where you should be."

"How the *fuck* are you the one to tell me where I should be?"

"Because you've broken down too many of those walls you put up as a child to simply build them back up again now."

I scoff. "Fuck, Justin. Leave me the *fuck* alone."

But Justin doesn't. Of course. "No. I'm not leaving you alone when you're like this and after a nightmare like that. I'm not leaving you alone again."

I glance at the clock. 3:15 in the morning. I pull away from Justin and get up painfully. He groans; he's not the only one who can be stubborn and he knows that- but he still protests. "Brian- don't go..." He pleads. I leave the room and go into the living room idly humming that Pink Floyd song. Shit I want to trick right now. Lose myself in a rough fuck, to hell with my broken ribs.


	37. Farago or bust?

A/N: I sooooooooooOOOOOO appreciate everyone's feedback to my stories- I just want to thank every one who has written feedback! Thank you! And let's keep this site ALIVE- fan fic is often better than what was on the show (especially the end of S. 5!) - especially with this group of writers. It's fantastic to go to a website where others' who have great imaginations, fabulous stories and kindred spirits like to go!

So, I've posted the next 2 chapters to this story. (BTW: Nothing of my stuff has been beta'd- So, please if something is wrong or bugs you, please email me or simply know that they're all my fault!) 

Please review if you have time to. :)

POV BRIAN

Having stalked out of the bedroom to avoid Justin and having to 'talk' about my fucking mother coming into my bedroom most nights, I find myself standing at the windows watching the lightening illuminate the rain as it falls; the lightening acts like a flashcube and freezes images of the storm; I can see the individual raindrops in that split second. 

Aw, fuck: I hear Justin padding up behind me. Well, shit: like I'd expect anything different. "Brianï¿½" Justin whispers as he stops beside me.

I ignore him and continue staring out at the storm. He sighs and goes to put the candles he brought in on the mantle. The candlelight causes a reflection in the windows making it harder to see the storm outside; in the windows I see my own broken form standing there in my robe; it's hanging off me. I look like a fucking stick figure. I watch in the reflection as Justin approaches me again and he stands beside me. He doesn't say anything else; he just wraps his arms around me. He rests his forehead against my bicep. I don't attempt to reciprocate but I don't pull away. I just try to block him out in my mind and heart and maintain this deadened, far away sensibility to keep from remembering or feeling anything.

After about 15 minutes of staring at the storm and our reflections, I start to feel again; fuck. The last fucking thing I want is to *feel*! Justin soon steps in front of me and in the reflection I see the top of his blond head as he looks up at my face; he puts his arms around me inside my robe. "Brian, please hold me too... Don't retreat into yourself. Remember, Brian?: You're beautiful- inside and out." He says quietly. "And I'm not letting go..."

Good GAWD- I roll my eyes. The kid really IS like a fucking LifeTime movie. I finally relent and hug him back; I feel him sink into my arms like he's relieved I'm finally responding to him. 

"Please talk to me, Brian..." I can barely hear him even from this close.

I just continue to stare at the image of us and the surrounding room in the night-darkened windows; I see Justin's beautiful back, his arms wrapped around me and his cheek now resting against my chest. 

"Brianï¿½"

Something in me snaps. I don't deserve him. I'm damaged. "Justin! Shut it! I don't want to 'talk' to you! Fuck!ï¿½ I try to pull away from him but he grips me tighter, hurting my broken ribs. "Ow! Shit, Justin!"

"I told you, I'm not letting go. I'm not letting you go, you fucker! Not ever! GOD, you're so stubborn, Brian!"

I grasp his arms and pull them off me. He lets out a slight yelp as he's pried away forcefully. I look around wondering how to escape this- this hell. I pull my robe around me and go to the front door, yanking it open. I have to get away from the demons that Justin is determined to let out. The shit. As I stride out I hear Justin protest behind me.

"Brian! Stop! You'll die in this storm! You'll freeze if nothing else!" He rushes after me but luckily I'm faster and I make it into the woods before he gets across the clearing.


	38. Farago or bust?

POV: BRIAN

I'm already thoroughly drenched and my teeth are chattering; I've been out here all of one minute, crashing through the branches that are thick and low. I vaguely hear Justin calling after me from a distance but I know he can't hear me over the storm as I break branches proceeding deeper into the woods. I relish the pain of the branches slapping my wounded body and the pine needles and woods' debris digging into and cutting my bare feet; it keeps me distracted, physically in pain and blissfully emotionally numb. UNcomfortably numb. Despite myself, I hold my sides as I move forward- I'm fucking freezing. 

I finally find a clearing; it was pitch black in the woods and I just moved forward blindly- even the lightning could barely penetrate the denseness of the forest to light my way. Now that I'm in the clearing, I collapse. I roll onto my back, feeling the torrential, freezing rain pounding my face and body.

Yeah. It sounds like I'm nuts, I know it. Laying here in some unknown clearing during the storm of the century at 3 something in the morning, freezing my ass off, my feet cut up and my ribs burning even more than before after having crashed through the forest; wearing only a thoroughly drenched bathrobe no less. I don't even know how long I was thrashing through the woods like a madman or where the fuck I am now except that I'm in the state of Maine. I think.

But if *you* were trying to stay numb inside, trying to keep the demons at bay that have awoken for the first time since they were created- the demons your mother created molesting you- you would probably be doing the same. Well, I wouldn't actually be here if Justin wasn't so fucking persistent in trying to bring the demons out. 

Fucker. I know he loves me. But I need to shut down right now.

The demons. Fuck the demons. I open my eyes, blinking as huge cold drops of rain hit my face and battered body. In the very dim light, I study the way the rain cascades from above, looking like a thousand knives falling towards me; lightning freezes the image in my mind. The frigid temperature cools the burning in my ribs, although my teeth are still clattering like a fucking wind-up chatter mouth toy. 

"Brian!!! You shit!"

Startled, I jolt- OW! holy fuck! My ribs are killing me! "What the hell!"

"Brian, you are SUCH a drama princess- no, make that a drama queen! Get the fuck up and put this coat on! Put on these boots! I mean, *look* at you!"

Justin. 

"How the fuck did you find me?" I say between episodes of teeth chattering. I peer at him through the dark, late night downpour, squinting my eyes. He's standing near me holding a coat and some boots, the hem of his robe peeking out the bottom of his own coat. He has a flash light which he thankfully doesn't shine directly into my eyes.

"Brian, it was easy to find you. You may be lean but you're tall and strong and if you go crashing through the forest, you leave a trail- it's basically a Brian-shaped tunnel through the trees. Get up!" His voice is angry, panicked and scared.

I sigh and attempt to get up but I buckle- my feet are in immense pain and my sides are in agony after the abuse of the branches hitting me. 

"Oh, fuck, Brian..." Justin mutters over the storm. "What have you done to yourself?" He comes over and kneels down beside me. "Look at your feet... Aw, Brian- You stupid idiot!"

"Shut up, Justin. You don't understand..." I whisper.

Unbelievably, he hears me; "Yes, Brian. I think I do understand- I haven't experienced the horror you went through, but I've seen how it's affected you. Your nightmares, Bri- just seeing you go through them- they explain a lot." Justin reaches for my feet and he examines them under the flashlight, pulling out pine needles, bark and whatever else is lodged in them. "Brian, you're just going to have to hobble home with wounded feet," he says after cleaning out what he can. "You can lean on me the whole way."

 

I close my eyes; fuck him for this. He leans over and kisses my cheek. Then he drapes the coat over me and pulls the boots over my feet. "C'mon, Brian. Let's go home. You probably have fucking pneumonia by now. And Tetnus. God, you're shaking and your skin is frozen!" He says, feeling my cheeks; he gently wraps his arms around me and helps me up.

"I don't need a mother, Justin. In fact, that's the last thing I need." I say, my voice dripping with irony, although I don't resist him as I stand, cringing.

"I'm not being motherly. I'm being your partner. So shut up and let's go." Justin pulls my arm around his shoulder and he draws me along, back through the woods towards the cabin. I limp painfully along, cringing with every step, knowing I'm ruining the boots I'm now wearing, soaking them with my blood. Justin is gentle with my ribs, but they still hurt beyond belief- even breathing is agony. I feel the mud in my hair from lying in the clearing, and even through the thick trees the rain is pounding down. Justin- fuck him; as hard as I try, I'm no longer numb.

"Brian..." Justin huffs as he helps me along, the flash light illuminating the path I made earlier through the forest. I try not to lean on him too much and I try to keep him away from the branches not yet broken. They'll cut him like they have me.

"Whatï¿½" I reply quietly; I'm hurting like hell but I've been through worse. 

"Brian, I'm sorry I pushed."

You've got to be kidding! "Justin, you didn't push any more than anyone else would who... who cared. It's just- Justin, I know you think 'getting it all out into the open' is the best way to go. But this is all new to me- and what happened..." I choke a bit despite myself as we finally reach the clearing by the cabin. The candlelight inside in the living room casts a very dim, eerie light onto the porch and clearing. "You left the candles lit in the living room?" I ask, gratefully changing the subject.

I see Justin roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye.


	39. Farago or bust?

A/N: Again, sorry for the veeeerrrry long delay- life has been getting in the way of my b/j passion - ONLY as far as having time to write (NOT AT ALL as far as *loving* the reading or **loving** the boys)! Reviews of all sorts are welcomed and appreciated- this is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you all! *Love ya!* Thanks!  
\--------------------------------

POV BRIAN

Justin takes a deep breath as we finally get inside; I vaguely notice the trail of blood from the door to the sofa from my cut up feet. He pulls off the coat he'd given me, then my soaking wet robe. "Sit." He says simply, and I sit (collapse) on the sofa, naked and shivering. I don't feel well at all. He stokes the fire, then hurries into the back. He comes back with some thick sweats and wool socks. I stare at him as he gently pulls the sweatpants on over my raw, wounded feet and the sweatshirt over my aggravated broken ribs; then he gingerly bandages my feet and helps me with the socks. All done in silence.

"Yes." He says finally. "I left the candles lit. I was fucking terrified about you, Brian. You asshole." I close my eyes, reveling in the warmth of the new dry clothes. I feel the cushion dip next to me and then feel Justin lean against me, his arms around me. "Christ, Brian, what happened to you? This isn't like you." He whispers. Justin's hands roam whatever skin is exposed, bruised or no. "Brian, you're cold and clammy. Let's get you into a hot tub before you catch pneumonia- if you haven't already."

My eyes are still closed and now I feel him caress my cheek. "Brian, stay here by the fire. I'll be right back."

My brow furrows. "I don't want a bath. I don't want to stay. I want to go back outside." I don't really. But I do, as well.

"Don't be a fucking 2 year old! It's freezing out there, there's a raging storm, it's the middle of the night, you're mangled and broken at the moment, and fucking *just stay here*!" Justin yells in a panicky voice. He forces himself to calm a little: "I'm going to run you a hot bath- soon you'll have candles, me, and I think there's some brandy in the bottom cupboard of the kitchen island! So shut up, don't move and wait to be rewarded with warmth, sex and booze!"

I snort, thinking in the back of my mind how amazed I am that I missed finding that brandy. And how I feel like a kid being cared for by someone who actually *loves* me. AND, how that is completely new to me.

Even though my impulse is to get up and flee as soon as Justin leaves the room, I'm too exhausted and my injured feet won't cooperate. I hear the bathwater running and Justin clinking glasses in the kitchen. I still haven't opened my eyes but I can see the candlelight behind my lids, red-orange and flickering through the thin layer of flesh. I see a shadow pass before the light and then feel a hand on my own. 

"C'mon, moron. Let's get you warmed up." Justin says. His hand caresses my face and neck. "God, Brian, you're really cold and clammy." He mutters, worried. 

I ignore him. Too weak. Just wanna stay here. He yanks my arm insistently. "Brian, come ON!"

I open my eyes finally, looking up at him blearily. He looks scared. I sigh and try not to scrunch my eyes closed as I stand on my painfully bloody, bandaged feet; he knows I hurt, ribs, belly, feet- soul- and he wraps one of my arms around his slight shoulder for support. "I gotcha." He says, although there's no way he could fully support me. Physically, mentally, emotionally- I'm too much- too tall, heavy, fucked, resistant. 

Still, somehow Justin and I painfully make it to the bathroom. I've taken more baths this trip than I have since I was 12. Justin gently removes the sweats he'd given me to replace my frigid, wet robe and helps me lower, butt-first, into the hot water. He holds my feet up once my ass is resting on the bottom so my bandages and wounds don't get wet. I shift so that the rest of me is fully in the water and suddenly I feel way too hot.

"Too hot." I mumble.

Justin props my heels against the lip of the tub and tests the water himself. "It feels okay, Bri." he says quietly. "You actually usually would be turning on more hot... Brian?"

"What?" I rasp.

"You're bright red; you're sweating a lot." I feel his very cold hand on my forehead. "Brian, now you're burning up!" Justin exclaims.

Ah. Wonderful. The next complication of my two week long vacation from hell. Now I'm dying of some fever.

"Brian, can you sit up a little?"

I try, but I feel too weak, my leverage is tanked with my butchered feet propped against the lip of the tub- and my ribs are feeling newly-kicked. Plus, and most importantly, why bother? I'm comfortably numb again.

"Okay, that's a 'no'! Wait here!" Justin says with urgency and fear. 

He then pulls the plug on the drain and rushes from the room. I groan. What the fuck! I feel the frozen air inch down my body as the water is swallowed down the pipes; I slip into a deep doze or maybe it's a fever-induced delusional state. Whatever it is, as I said- I'm nice and comfortably numb. I mean, physically, I hurt like hell, but I don't feel anything inside.

I'm startled- well, as much as I can be at this point- when the door crashes open. "Brian!" 

 

"Hey, Mikey!" I sound almost drunk. Huh. Funny. "How're they hangin', best bud?"

"Justin, did he take anything?" I hear Michael ask. 

"No! I told you, no! He's sick! He has a fever!" Sunshine's voice. How sweet.

"He's delirious!" Michael exclaims. "Brian, come on, take my hand! Get up out of the tub." 

I wave my hand blindly in front of me, towards Mikey's voice. 

"Babylon?" I ask. Babylon would be cool right now, I think.

"We're in Maine, Brian- not tonight." I feel him grasp my hand and then feel a pull. "Justin, go get Ben. I can't lift him- he's not helping at all, he's too tall for me."

'Oooo-- Ben's lucky. He gets to see me naked again!' I think to myself. I pause, thoughtful. 'I *am* naked, aren't I?' I suddenly hear the back door slam and thunder above. 

Then I feel Mikey's hand on my forehead; "Aw, fuck. Brian, you're sick. You're really sick. And look at your feet. Brian, I love you- Justin's getting help."

The water or whatever it is that was warm is completely gone now and I start to shiver uncontrollably. My teeth chatter and I feel lips on my forehead. "God, you really are very sick." Mikey's voice repeats. Suddenly he's gone too. 

"Mikey!" I say hoarsely. "Mikey, don't leave me!" Then I feel a presence next to me. "Mikey?" I murmur.

I hear a sharp inhale and then hear, "No, Bri. It's me. It's Justin. I brought Ben." 

I say nothing and suddenly feel myself being lifted through very, VERY cold air towards where? Heaven? Ha! Right! Hell?

But I find myself suddenly on a soft mattress, blankets pulled over me. I can hear voices - all familiar, some more than others, but the words make no sense. I allow myself to drift away; but before I do, I feel like I'm burning up- must be in hell- and I try to kick off anything that's covering me.


	40. Chapter 40

  
Author's notes: OK, y'all- you asked for it! This is a BIG UGLY dose of Farago! It's disturbing, Brian goes through a lot and is a bit OOC but you'll see why- you may want to skim over a few of the chapters prior to this to get what's going on. A lot of it was difficult to write for what Brian's going through... Let me know what you think, good or bad!  


* * *

POV BRIAN 1977 (flashback/dream)

I wake up groggily, feeling stifled under the covers. I try to kick them off, but I can’t. “What…? What?” I mutter.

Then I feel movement. A hand down there. “What?” I say again, more loudly. “Stop!” I yell, wondering what’s going on. I wake more fully and focus my eyes. “Ma- is that you?” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

POV JUSTIN

Brian is going to give me an attack… he’s scaring me. Terrifying me. I lay beside him in our bed, watching him. He’s been tossing and turning, but both Michael and Ben said I should let him sleep, allow the fever to break. They left a half hour ago, saying to call at any time if needed. 

I won’t sleep. While he may have pneumonia or whatever else after his prolonged exposure to the storm or whatever it is, I *know* the nature of the dreams he has now- and I don’t mean ‘Jack dreams’. No one else knows these dreams-- not Michael, not Lindsay, not Debbie. Hardly even Brian. 

His mother did things to him that he hasn’t remembered in his entire life since they happened; he‘s repressed them so deeply, he‘s shocked by them now that he‘s suddenly having these nightmares. He’s shocked, ashamed, in denial- and I’m nauseated. Well, he’s nauseated too. I scream in my very core for Brian. This beautiful man who, like a phoenix out of the ashes, somehow grew up to not repeat any of the sins his ‘family’ committed against him. 

Anyway, he’s going through something new- and that’s why he ran out into the storm in the first place. He ran, all because I was so fucking STUPID and I pushed him too hard. Too hard. I didn’t push him to tell me about it as much as I normally would have. But I did get too close to him. I invaded his space.

Brian’s brow furrows in his fitful sleep. Mine knits because his does, although I only realize it after a moment. 

“Ma…?” Brian mutters. “What are you doi…”

What the fuck? Oh no… Oh, fuck, no… Brian probably hasn’t used the word “Ma” since he was 8 or 9... 

“NO!” Brian screams.

Fever having to break or no, I shake him. “Brian! Wake up!” God, he feels so hot- he’s really burning up! 

But he doesn’t rouse. 

“Brian!” I’m panicking.

He just rocks back and forth in place for a few moments and then he’s still, only his head tossing once in awhile. “Oh, Brian…” I whisper. “What happened to you?”  
\-----------------------------------------------------

POV BRIAN 1977 (flashback/dream)

“Ma, what are you doing here? What are you doing?”

“Hush, Brian.” 

I try to sit up as I feel a hand massage my penis- 

“Ma! This isn’t…! No! This isn’t right! Why?” I say, confused and terrified.

“It’s okay, honey.” Ma slurs in that strange way she has at night. “Don’t you like Mama showing you she loves you?”

I’m crying- lost; I like that Ma loves me but I don’t like the way she’s showing me right now… this is the only time she ever says that she loves me… Why? I cry harder than when Dad beats me and calls me a whore and a mistake and unlovable… I try to find somewhere in my mind I can hide, a wall I can hide behind… not feel this, not vomit… Dad would beat me if I did that…  
\-------------------------------------------

POV JUSTIN

“No…. I love you too Ma… but not this way… no…”

Brian’s mumbling in his sleep and crying, his fever feels like it’s climbing and storm or no storm, I’m ready to call the paramedics. I push cold compresses on his forehead and I try to wake him, the latter to no avail. I’m terrified. The more I hear, the more I want to learn how to build something to firebomb the Kinney household.

\----------------------------------------------------

POV BRIAN 1977 (flashback/dream)

I pretend to be asleep as Ma leaves my room. I’ve never had that happen to me; I mean, it means Ma loves me, right? Those are the words she used… She made me… what was her word? She made me into a man I think she said. I feel like I may be sick. 

She said something about believing I’m something called a ‘fag’. She said she was turning me around. I don’t know what a fag is; but Ma also said she needed me. That Dad wasn’t doing anything for her but that she was making me make it so it wasn’t so bad for her. I wish it didn’t have to be her touching me down there. In school they say that’s a private place and it feels like it- but she’s using it.

I know and have always known how Dad can be. He’s mean; he hurts me. A lot. And Ma never does anything to stop it. Ma says she is now- she’s doing something now. And I’m helping her.

It confuses me, because Ma says that me doing this- which scares me, hurts me- with her, will hurt Dad, and that helps Ma. I hate it- HATE it- but I don’t feel like I have any choice. I don’t want to hurt anybody… Ma usually comes up all wobbly when my digital clock says 12AM; then she leaves, and then Dad usually comes up *really* wobbly at around 2AM and hits me. I’m really confused. Both hurt me. A lot. And pretty much the only time Ma says she loves me is late at night when she’s all wobbly and slurring and doing things to me. Dad never says it. But he does call me a whore, whatever that is. He says I’m unwanted, I should never have been born. 

Maybe he’s right. I’m sure he is- aren’t daddies always right? As I said, both hurt. A lot. 

I freeze when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I’m so scared! I shiver like I’m cold but I’m not…  
\----------------------------------------------  
POV JUSTIN

I’m in a complete panic; Brian won’t wake up no matter how hard I shake him and he’s having some horrific nightmare about his mother fucking molesting him. His fever is sky high, I feel it in the heat of his skin, he’s sweating despite how cold the cabin is, the storm outside sounds like it’s getting even worse and I’m desperate. 

“Brian! Brian!” I shake him as hard as I can; the anguish on his face pains me. His eyes crack open slightly. “Brian!”

“Ma? No, Ma… please.” Fuck. He’s completely delirious! Then he seems to snap out of the nightmare.

“Brian, it’s me. It’s Justin. It’s Sunshine.” I say gently, caressing his sweaty cheek.

“Justin?” He asks, clearly not placing the name. “Justin?”

I reach over and grab the phone. Michael answers on the first ring, obviously concerned.

“Michael, he doesn’t know who I am, but he might know you- could you guys come over? I’m really scared…” I admit.

“Of course!” Within maybe one minute I hear the back door open and close and Michael’s in the room; I’m pretty sure he’s been crying, although his face is wet from the rain. Ben’s on his heels looking very concerned.

“Do you think this is just from him being outside earlier?” I ask tentatively, holding Brian’s hand. 

“No. You don’t get sick that fast from exposure. I think this has been awhile coming.” Ben says, leaning over Brian and stroking his cheek in an uncharacteristic show of concerned affection for his lover’s obsession. I like Ben. 

“Brian? It’s me, Mikey.” Michael whispers. 

“Mikey!” Brian nearly yells; we all jump, startled. “Mikey, how’s your Ma doing? She’s always so nice to me, even if she is a little strange.” He shivers like he’s cold, even though he’s burning up. “Nothing like my mother though.” He adds quietly. “I don’t think any mother is like mine. Which is good. For everyone else… But I deserve her, I guess.” He adds in a whisper. 

My heart breaks and the tears on my cheeks flow harder. In fact, I vaguely notice that Michael and Ben are both in tears.

“Hey!” He says suddenly. “Let’s go to the treehouse, Mikey! Have a sleep over!”

“Sure, Brian. That’d be fun.” Michael looks at Ben and me and shrugs, not sure how to react to Brian’s delirium. 

“And bring some of your Ma’s lemon bars, ‘k? I love those things!”

Frankly, it’s starting to *really* freak me out how delirious and un-Brian-like he is. I’m getting frightened for his life. I pick up the phone and call Debbie- probably waking up the whole house at the top of the hill. “Deb? I’m so glad you were the one who answered! I’m sorry to call at this hour…” I glance at the battery clock radio by the bed. 4:30AM. I try desperately not to sob. “Deb, Brian’s really really sick. Could you come down?”

\---“What do you mean, ‘really really sick‘? He was fine this afternoon.”

“He has a fever. He’s delirious. He has no idea who I am.”

\---There’s a pause. Then: “I’ll be right there!” 

She must slam down the phone in a panic because there a sudden bang on the line.

“Why call Ma?” Michael asks.

“He trusts her like a mother- a good, real mother. She might be able to get through to him in a way we can’t.”

“He knows me!” Michael sounds indignant.

“Michael…” Ben says quietly. “Big picture, babe. Brian’s really sick.”

Michael looks down at Brian and nods. “I hope he’ll be okay.” He whispers.

“What do you think he’s got?” I ask, hearing the fear in my voice.

“Flu, pneumonia; it’s hard to say.” Ben answers.

Just then Debbie bursts into the house and into the room. “Brian!” She exclaims. “Oh honey!” She mutters when she sees his weakened, delirious state. “You’re burning up!” She says as she feels his forehead. “We have to cool him down! Justin, honey, run a cool bath.”

“Deb? Is that you?” Brian slurs. “You know, I love you. You’re like a real mom.”

“Yes, honey, I’m here. I love you too, like my own son. Now, you relax.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know sweetie. You have a fever. We’re going to cool you down a little, okay?” She looks at me. “What’s his temperature?”

“I don’t know. I’ll get the thermometer.” I mentally slap myself for not thinking to get it earlier. I didn’t want to leave his side. I go to the bathroom and start the cold bath and get the thermometer. I’m shaking and full-out crying I’m so scared right now- and freaked out by how suddenly this came on, like a switch was thrown.

I take Debbie the thermometer and we all wait breathlessly to see how high his fever is. “Shit!” She yells. “104.5. That’s too high.”

FUCK! I think that *any* fever is too high when it’s my lover’s, but this is BAD. “Do we call the paramedics?” I ask.

“Sunshine, check that bath. We really need to cool him down first. And now!”

I rush into the bathroom. “Okay! It’s ready!” I call into the bedroom. Soon Ben is carrying a groggy, out-of-it Brian into the room and he gently places him in the water. God, even sick as a dog and deeply bruised and broken as hell, Brian is beautiful, I think to myself. I carefully remove the now-wet bandages from his feet. I lean down and begin to squeeze the sponge over his feverish skin that’s not submerged in cool water. Everyone crowds into the room, concerned looks on their faces.

After five minutes, Deb takes his temperature again. Brian’s shivering now but she says we have to get the fever down. “Still 104.5.” She sighs worriedly. “5 more minutes.”

I lean down and kiss his forehead, hating how hot his skin still is despite the near-frigid water he lays in. “Brian, come on. You can beat this. You’re Brian Fucking Kinney for fuck’s sake.” I whisper, quoting Michael.

His hand goes up and he cups my cheek. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that? Jushtin, right?” Bri slurs. “I’n’t that yer name?”

“He knows me! He didn’t before!” I say, excited, despite my eyes being bleary and watery with frightened worry. “Yeah, I’m Justin.” I choke out.

“You’re da one who says that annoyin’ ‘Bri’ all the time, aren’t you? Great sex? All around good guy and my pardner?”

I blush, crying- but partly for joy now. “Um. Yeah, I guess so.”

He looks around. “Debbie! Mikey! An’ who’s that?”

Ben looks down and then at Brian. “I’m Ben, Brian. I’m Mikey’s partner.”

“Mikey foun’ someone? Dat’s great!” He sounds like he’s drunk and on one of Anita’s special mixes. Still, I love it- he’s not fully with us, but his delirium is clearing! “It’s fuckin’ cold in here.” He adds.

Debbie pats his head and takes his temperature again. “102. Much better. Brian, sweetie, can you stand up?”

He slowly stands in the water, wincing a little- his fever is breaking! His delirium is disappearing! While still terrified, I’m giddy at the same time despite myself. I watch him stand tall and gorgeous and I roll my eyes when I notice everyone’s reaction to him naked, as though they’ve never seen him naked before. Most of Pittsburgh has. But he looks so beautiful in the candlelight, wet, glistening, lean, tan… and most importantly, my Brian again. He wobbles a bit- Ben immediately steadies him before anyone, even me, can react; have I said that I like Ben? 

I glance at Ben and he’s careful of Brian’s uneasy balance. All worried but now hopeful eyes are on the unsteady Adonis in the water, sure that Ben will keep him from falling.

Debbie quickly wraps a towel around Brian and dries him. “Come on, sweetie, can you walk to bed? We‘ll re-bandage your feet later.” She coddles, leading him gently back to the bed room wrapped only in a towel. 

“Ma, shouldn’t Ben carry him because of his sore feet?”

“Michael, I’m pretty sure they’re numb from the cold water. It’s not far.” She turns to Brian. “How do you feel, hun?”

Brian sneezes and winces from the pain it causes due to his broken ribs. “Sick.” He answers simply. “I feel sick and I hurt all over.” Well, at least his delirium seems to be gone. “I feel very sick. And I don’t get sick.” His hoarse voice sounds almost outraged.

She chortles. “Well, you just proved yourself wrong on that count, Brian. We’re gonna make you all better, okay?” Deb is such a take-charge mother in times of stress. It’s actually very comforting. It makes me feel like things aren’t so dire- and when it comes to my partner being this sick, I‘d be panicking more than I am were it not for her right now. I *was* panicking not 30 minutes ago. “Come on, doll- let’s get you under those covers.”

“Thanks Deb.” He says quietly. “I could always count on you.” He pauses. “I’m sorry Jack threatened you and your family.”

“Hush! That’s long ago, and I don’t pay that any mind now. I just want you to feel better.”

Brian gingerly climbs under the covers and sneezes again. I go over and sit on the bed next to him. I lean down and kiss him. “Sunshine, I don’t want you to catch this. Be careful.”

I grin. Again he’s thinking of others and not himself even though he’s the one feeling like shit. “If I haven’t caught it by now, I don’t think I will, Bri.”

He smiles wanly. “I hope you don’t. It sucks big time.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Deb comes over and takes his temperature again. “101. I think the fever’s really truly breaking. Brian, your fever was up at 104.5- in the last half hour, it’s gone down over 3 degrees. That’s wonderful!”

He grimaces. “Huh. I still feel like shit.”

“I know. You’re getting better though.” Deb says. “Sunshine, you think you can handle it from here on? If not, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

I sigh and glance at the clock. 5:15. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I won’t be getting any more sleep anyway. Thanks, Debbie. Thanks, Ben. Thanks, Michael.”

“Of course. And we’ll stick close to home today in case you need any more help. Just call.” Ben says. Michael, now that the panic is past, shows that he still resents me for my yelling at Deb earlier and he hardly looks me in the eyes.

“You needed help?” Brian says to me. “With me suffering from a stupid fever? What a wus.” Brian snorts.

“Shut up Brian! You were fucking delirious! You didn’t even know who I was!” I snap.

He looks at me incredulously. “No shit?”

“No. No shit.” I say, more gently this time.

“Fuck, Justin, I’m sorry…”

Deb, Ben and Michael all leave the room and I hear the back door closing. Brian looks so surprised and- well, and almost hurt that he didn’t know me when he was delirious.

“Aw, Brian, it’s okay. And sorry’s bullshit, right? I think you kind of slipped back into being a kid.”

“What the fuck happened to my feet?” He asks, looking under the covers at his cut up feet.

“You don’t remember running out into this storm in nothing but a robe and crashing through the woods at 3AM?”

“Why did I…?” The question is left hanging as a look of recognition and pain crosses his features. “Oh.” He whispers, remembering.

“Yeah." I say sadly. "Brian, I’m worried about you. Really worried. These last nightmares were different.” I stretch out next to him on the bed and feel his forehead. Seems much cooler than before. Leave it to Brian to have the quickest but most serious flu in history.

“Yeah. Different.” He whispers, shivering. “Completely new.” He adds, a faraway look in his eyes.

“When did it start with your mother?” I ask hesitantly, not sure if he’ll bite my head off.

Brian looks down at his beautiful hands and his chin juts out slightly from emotion. “I don’t know. I was 8 or 9 I think.”

“You totally blocked those memories until now?” Fuck, Justin: what a STUPID question!

“Uh, Justin: why else would I go running through the woods in a raging storm like a madman at 3 in the morning?”

Despite the (deserved) sarcasm in his answer, I’m amazed that he’s not pushing me away. I caress his cheek. “I think I would have too. I probably would have done it screaming. You cut quite a trail through those woods.”

“Sorry.” He says seriously.

“Stop apologizing! It’s very non-Brian like.”

He plays idly with his cuticles. I pull his cheek slightly so he’s looking at me. “Brian, you know what happened with your mother wasn’t your fault, just like what Jack did wasn’t your fault. Joan’s a sick bitch who used her own child.” I notice that his eyes are shiny.

“I just can’t imagine doing that to your own kid.” Brian’s voice is a little shaky. 

Mine is shaky too. “I know. That’s one reason why you’re such a fantastic parent. You would never hurt Gus in any way. You‘re a kind and loving father. And fun.”

“I get scared that someday I might, you know? Hurt him, I mean.” Brian whispers.

I look deeply into his eyes, touched both by his unfounded fears and his talking to me so openly. Maybe he still is a little delirious- the everyday Brian would never say these things. Making sure his eyes keep contact with mine, I whisper, “Brian, I know you better than you know yourself. You would never, could never do anything to harm that little boy. I see you with him- the look you get on your face. Brian, you love him so much…”

He nods mutely, looking away, basically unconvinced.

“Brian, fuck! You are so not like either of your parents- or your sister for that matter- I wish you’d stop with this ‘apple doesn’t fall far from the family tree’ shit. You see how happy Gus is!” I'm constantly reminding him- he can be so hard-headed though.

He nods again. “Okay, enough schmaltz, Sunshine. Could you go get the bandages so I can wrap my feet up? Neosporin too. Thanks.”

I sigh and get up to retrieve everything. I get back and pull up the blanket so just his feet show, having immediately decided to bandage him up myself. “Aw, Brian, your beautiful feet. Do they hurt?” I ask, looking at his torn up feet.

“At this point, Sunshine, the only parts of me that don’t hurt are my knees.”

I snort and pull the blanket up more to look at his knees. I kiss each one, admiring once again his golden, toned long legs. “Let’s keep the knees unscathed, okay?” I then gently apply liberal amounts of Neosporin to his wounded feet and wrap them in bandages. I kiss his toes as I wrap his feet up, carefully avoiding the cuts. I pull the blanket down after I’m done and I lean up to kiss his lips. After wiping the excess ointment from my hands, I lay down next to him and run my fingers through his hair. “How do you feel? It looks like your fever’s nearly gone. At least in comparison to before.”

“I feel better. Not 100%, but better. Well, besides my body and feet. And I’m still cold from that frigid fucking bath.”

I grin and relish the damp, soft feel of his hair.  
"Well, it serves you right for scaring the bejesus out of me- out of all of us! Fucker."


	41. Chapter 41

  
Author's notes: Not much to say here- Brian's recovering in bed and Justin is his makeshift nurse; the gang pay a visit  


* * *

POV JUSTIN *********

I bend slightly and gently kiss his bruised torso. “Well, even with the parts of you that have to heal, you’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Brian snorts. 

I know he doesn’t believe what I'm saying, but that doesn’t stop me from saying it and believing it. 

Instead of insisting though, I remain quiet. It's futile- i've tried. I *like* it when he calls me beautiful, but he doesn't feel the same when I say it about him.  


He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, cringing a little from his now even more bruised and broken ribs, worse after his crashing through the woods. “Sunshine, could you get me a glass of water?” He asks.

I get him a glass of water and look at the clock. “It’ll be sun up soon.” I say. It’s 6:30 now.

“Sun? I don’t think so. More like daybreak with this fucking storm. But still: Thank God.” He’s thoughtful a moment. “We may have to take a boat home if this weather keeps up.”

I kiss his lean torso again and kiss a trail down to his cock. “I take it this body part doesn’t hurt?” I ask, licking the tip. It stirs to life and Brian arches an eyebrow.

“No. It feels pretty good, actually.”

I wink at him and take his entire dick into my mouth. He bucks his hips at the sudden sensation. “Fuck!” He mutters. I soon have a rhythm and am deep throating him, fondling his heavy balls; in the back of my mind, I’m hoping this is distracting him from some of the pain. And of course, I savor the unique scent and flavor that is Brian. He again arches up against me and then hisses at the pain in his body this motion causes. 

“Easy there, Brian.” I mutter before continuing to deep throat him. I gently smooth a hand over his broken, bruised body as my head bobs over his huge, warm, smooth-skinned cock. He soon shudders and moans and my mouth is flooded with his cum and I swallow it all. “Mmmmm…” I hum, wishing I could bottle his taste.

I’m suddenly surprised by a knock at the back door. 

“Who the fuck would that be at 7AM?” Brian bitches.

“I’ll go see.” I go peer out the window and the whole family is standing there, wet and bedraggled. I swing open the door and they all file in, leaving rain puddles on the floor.

“How is he?” Emmett whispers. “Is he sleeping?”

“No. He’s awake. He seems much better, except for the pain he’s in.”

“Can we go see him?” Lindsay asks, holding a squirming Gus. “We heard about the fever and delirium- Deb told us.”

“Sure, go ahead back. He might be a little cranky.”

“What else is new?” Ted mutters. 

I shoot him a glare. “Ted, you don’t know the half of what Brian just went through and has been going through. So shut the fuck up.” I hiss.

Ted says nothing but he looks sheepishly at his feet. Lindsay leads the way and the gang files into the bedroom. I pat Ted on the back- he means no harm. 

I hear Brian groan and I grin.

“Are you feeling better, you asshole?” Deb asks. “You look better.” She goes over and feels his forehead.

“Yeah, I feel a bit better.” Brian says. “Thanks for helping Sunshine last night. I didn’t realize I got delirious.” He pulls the covers a little higher and his bandaged feet poke out, spotted with blood.

“Jesus, Brian- what happened to your handsome feet?” Lindsay exclaims, shocked and pulling Gus away so he doesn’t see.

“Long story. They’ll be fine.” He sighs. Apparently only Ben and Michael know about his little early morning run through the woods- not the cause, but I had to tell them something to explain Brian’s torn up feet. “Should Gus be in here? I might be contagious and I don’t want him to get anything like whatever I had.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll take him in the other room.” Mel says, lifting Gus from Lindsay.

“Daddy, are you hurt?” Gus asks in a plaintive whisper before they leave the room.

“I’m just a little under the weather, Sonny Boy. I’ll be fine. No worries.” Brian answers softly. “I just don’t want you to catch whatever I have, so your Momma’s gonna take you in the other room.”

“I wanna get in bed with you, Daddee. I don’t like it if you don’t feel good.”

Brian smiles at his son. “Well let me see if I still have a fever. If not, I’ll come out and be with you or you can come in here.”

I hand him the thermometer. We find he still has a fever, now of 100. Shit. 

“Sunshine, could you go explain to Sonny Boy that he can’t come to see me yet?” Brian asks, looking at me sadly. I put my hand over his and nod mutely.

I go out and explain it to Brian’s son and he starts crying, worried about his father. “Shhhh. He’ll be okay, Gussy Gus. You’ll see.” 

Gus reaches out to me to pick him up, which I do. I look at him and even when he’s crying, he looks just like Brian. I kiss his forehead and Mel reaches for him.

“I should probably get him out of this cabin, Justin.” She takes him and grabs the baby bag. 

I just nod and watch her bundle him into a slicker and then leave the cabin with him. I go back to our bedroom and everyone is sitting around Brian on the bed. He looks like he’s being tortured - he hates being such the center of attention like this. I grin at him as he sees me enter the room. He rolls his eyes. Everyone is chattering at him. I go over and clear my throat. “Hey, guys- I think Brian needs to get some rest; he had a pretty harrowing night, and he still has a fever.”

Debbie nods. “Quite right, Sunshine. We’ll check in again in a couple of hours. If you need us before that, we’ll be glad to come down to help you.”

Everyone says good bye and wishes Brian to feel better. He mumbles a thanks to them and soon it’s just the two of us. “They only do that ‘cause they love you and worry about you.” I whisper, seeing the scowl on his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off. “It’s fucking annoying though.”

I smile at him and lay down next to him.

“Justin, Sunshine- I really don’t want you to catch this thing. I’m still contagious.” He says with concern in his voice.

“Brian, believe me, if I haven’t been infected by now, me laying next to you won’t make a difference.” I gently lay my head on his chest. He relents and puts his arm around me. I feel him shiver and I pull the blanket fully over him.


	42. Chapter 42

  
Author's notes: Um. Well, lots happen... ;)  


* * *

POV JUSTIN *********

 

We’re still lying in bed, dozing on and off and talking- his fever is stubbornly remaining at 100. It’s about 6PM now and the rain is coming down in sheets and is louder than usual against the roof. Brian’s thoughtful.

 

“Justin, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Brian whispers suddenly after a few minutes of silence. He’s not specific about what he’s talking about, but I know he’s talking about his mother molesting him. It’s obvious that he’s still in shock over those repressed memories suddenly lurching into his consciousness after so many years- as am I.

 

“Of course I won‘t, Brian. I wouldn’t. Besides, it’s not for me to tell.” I feel Brian shudder and I look up at his face. There are tears in his eyes. I kiss his cheek. “You know, Bri,“ I say quietly; “It’s okay to cry about it. This is a pretty big thing to suddenly remember. You don’t have to be the stoic Stud of Liberty Avenue right now; or ever, actually, when you’re with me.”

 

“I know.” Tears begin to streak down his cheeks and my heart breaks for him. “I know.” He mutters again. He’s crying very quietly. “I just can’t believe it, you know. Joanie would stumble in at midnight, then Jack at 2AM. Jack called me a whore all the time. He was right, I guess.”

 

I feel like I might throw up again hearing this. “No, Brian, he was *not* right. You were a child, Brian. Your mother took advantage of you- she’s sick. Jack was sick.” I say in a hushed voice.

 

“How could she do that to me? Ignore me all day while my father beat the shit out of me, and then fucking ra-- touch me at night in my room?”

 

I kiss him on the cheek again, this time tasting the salt of his tears. “I don’t understand it, either. As I said, she’s a very sick woman.” I repeat. I rarely have seen Brian like this and it’s unnerving, but I keep listening.

 

“It was the only time really that she would tell me she loved me, y’know?” He pauses. “See why I think love is bullshit?” He adds in a whisper. “God, I remember the sickly sweet taste of sherry on her tongue. I can’t be near that shit to this day. Now I understand why.” Brian’s quaking and I suddenly realize I am too, and I’m crying as hard as he is if not harder. “The first time she did it I was so confused about what was happening.”

 

“You were really young, Brian. Any child would have been confused. She was wrong- not you.”

 

“How could I have let her do that?” 

 

“Brian- as I said, you were a child. It was *not* your fault.” God, I wish he’d believe that. He’s so fucking *stubborn*. “It was *not* your fault, you fucker! Listen to me dammit!” I repeat.

 

He scrubs a hand over his face, wiping away the tears. I kiss him again, softly. “Fuck, I feel like such a pussy right now.”

 

“You’re not a pussy, Brian! You survived. You made it out of there, you have wonderful friends, you have a happy son who loves you more than anything, you have a partner who also loves you more than anything. You’re a good man, Brian, and nothing that happened to you as a child changes that. And nothing that happened to you as a child was your fault.” I add, repeating myself ad nauseum on this point.

 

He tucks his finger under my chin and lifts me up for a light kiss, though his eyes still look haunted. 

 

“Aw, Brian. I’m so sorry about all this shit.” I whisper.

 

“Yeah, well… it’s not for you to be sorry about. But this trip just keeps getting better and better.” He says bitterly. “Plus, the schmaltz level is getting to the point where *I* want to vomit.”

 

“I know, Bri. I’m sorry about that, too.” Brian’s stopped crying but his eyes are red. I’m still crying a little. “I’m still glad you came up. Spending this much time with you has really been cool. If it’s possible, I love you more every minute I’m with you. You’ve let me in more and more- amazingly so, actually- and the more I learn about you, the more I love and understand you, too.”

 

“Quit. The. Schmaltz.” Brian mutters.

 

I roll my eyes. “It may be schmaltz, but it’s true. Deal with it.” I say, kissing him again. 

 

We’re quiet a few moments.

 

“I just really can’t wrap my brain around the fact that Joan fucking fucked me- raped me- almost every night I lived in that house. And I didn’t remember any of it until now!” He says suddenly, an acid note to his voice.

 

I just hold him closer and rest my head on his shoulder.

 

We’ve been so deep in conversation and emotions we didn’t notice Michael standing at the bedroom door. His mouth has dropped open and he looks frozen to the spot. Shit. He heard.

 

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?” Brian barks.

 

“I um. I um… I came to see how you were feeling.” He rakes his fingers through his rain-soaked hair. “Brian…” He whispers.

 

“Michael, you can’t just barge in! And then eavesdrop!” Brian snaps, realizing his best friend heard more than Brian would want; he’s angry. 

 

“The door… um. The door was open; I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping… Brian… is what you… what you just said true?” He stammers.

 

“None of your business.” Brian snarls.

 

“My God, Brian.” Michael says, ignoring the snub. He suddenly finds his power to move and he rushes over to Brian. He sits down next to him on the bed. Brian looks mortified that his friend overheard about Joan molesting him. 

 

“Michael, stop it! And if you repeat what you just overheard, I will kill you dead! I mean that!” Brian seethes.

 

“I won’t Brian. I won’t.” Michael assures him. “My God, Brian. I’m so sorry. You never let on.”

 

“Well, for one thing, I only just remembered, Michael. For another thing, it’s not something I *would* ‘let on’. Just forget you heard anything!” Brian growls.

 

“Are you okay?” Michael asks, apparently oblivious to Brian’s anger and desperation. I scoff at Michael’s question. Of *course* he’s not okay!

 

“I’ll be fine, Michael.” Brian sighs, resigned to Michael’s apparent deaf ears. 

 

“Michael, we kind of want to be alone.” I say, barely hiding the anger in my voice.

 

He looks utterly shocked at what he’s learned and he just gapes at Brian- he doesn’t seem to have heard me.

 

“Mikey, leave.” Brian demands gently, but more firmly.

 

“But… but…” Michael stutters out.

 

“Go!” I yell, feeling very protective of Brian.

 

“Okay. If there’s any…anything I can do, let me know…” Michael says, getting up. He leans over and gives Brian a kiss on the cheek. 

 

Brian’s expression softens. “Thanks, Mikey. But I mean it as far as you repeating anything you heard. And next time, just be sure to knock before you come in.”

 

“I… I will.” Michael still looks like he’s in shock, staring at Brian and he slowly backs up and then leaves.

 

As I lay here next to Brian, I look up at him and he looks in shock as well. “Well, lovely.” He mutters sarcastically.

 

“He won’t tell anyone, Brian.”

 

“I wouldn’t count on that, Sunshine. You know Michael and secrets.”

 

I caress his cheek. “I’d trust him with something this important.”

 

“I can hardly believe *you* of all people believe that he’ll keep a secret, no matter how big!”

 

I don’t say anything to that. It’s true. I’m not sure he’ll keep quiet either, and I’m regretting not locking the door.

 

“You feel like getting up for a little while? We’ll just bundle you in sweats and your robe. We’ve been in bed all day. Are you up for that?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.

 

“Yeah. I’m getting restless and overheated. Good idea.” Brian answers. He looks a little odd all of a sudden- greenish pale - but I nod.

 

I go get the warmest sweats I can find and Brian’s robe. “Just take it easy, Brian. You’re still sick. And your feet are pretty torn up.”

 

“Yes, mother.” He smirks- and then looks stricken realizing what he just said. 

 

I go over to him and kiss him gently on the cheek. “Try to put her out of your mind for awhile.” I whisper.

 

“I can’t, Justin. I can’t.” 

 

I sigh and help him put on the sweats, careful of his bandaged feet. “How do your feet feel?”

 

“They hurt.”

 

“Well, as I said, be careful walking around, okay?”

 

“That’s all I can be.” He says, gingerly swinging his long, leanly muscled legs off the side of the bed and standing. He suddenly grabs the night table.

 

“Brian! What’s wrong?!” I ask, alarmed.

 

“I just got dizzy there for a moment.” He winces.

 

“Brian, maybe you should stay in bed awhile longer.” I say worriedly, going over to him to help him sit back on the bed.

 

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Just a head rush.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear it.

 

“Really, Brian- if you fall and hurt yourself, you’re too tall and heavy for me to help you back up.”

 

“You’re calling me heavy?”

 

“Of course not, Brian. It’s just I’m much shorter than you are, plus I just can’t support your weight. I’m not strong enough.”

 

“You’ve been carrying me practically this whole trip.” Brian says in a hushed, pained voice. And I know what he means and my gut tightens- with sadness, admiration and deep love. He tries to stand again and falls flat on his back on the bed. 

 

Scared, I reach down and cup his cheek. It’s hotter than hell. “Brian, you’re burning up again!” He’s broken out in a cold sweat.

 

“Great.” He mumbles. Then his eyes close and I start to freak out. 

 

“Shit! Brian! Brian!” He doesn’t respond. Not again! What the FUCK is going on??? I grab the phone and call Debbie. Again. “Deb! Deb!”

 

“Sunshine, what the fuck? Is it Brian?”

 

“Yes! Please come down here!” I can hardly articulate words. I hang up quickly and sit next to Brian. I’m hardly fazed by an extremely loud crack of thunder. “Oh, fuck, Brian, what’s wrong with you?” I ask quietly. “You’ve never been sick since I met you. What’s going on with you now?”

 

Of course, he doesn’t answer. I’m sobbing- lord, I’ve been crying so much lately- but Brian’s been so hurt, so sick; he’s such a healthy man normally.

 

Debbie comes bursting into the house. “What is it? What happened?” She demands as she sits next to Brian on the bed. “Aw fuck!” She exclaims, feeling his head. “What the hell is wrong with him? He’s never sick!” She adds, more to herself than to me. “Justin, call 911!” Her mascara is running down her cheeks- from both the rain and from tears.

 

I panic- for Deb to tell me to call 911 means this is more than she can deal with. But I don’t hesitate and I grab the phone, quickly dialing. It’s then that I realize that the phone is dead. “What the fuck!” I shout. “This was working 3 minutes ago!” I bang the receiver against the nightstand.

 

“What? What is it?” Deb demands, pressing a cold compress against Brian’s forehead.

 

“The fucking phone doesn’t work!” 

 

“Do you have a cell?”

 

God, she’s brilliant. I race into the living room and grab Brian’s cell phone, praying this storm won’t affect its range or effectiveness. It says ‘low batt’, but I dial 911 anyway, crossing my fingers- and I get through! I tell them where we are, to come right away, that we need an ambulance. 

 

And they say it will be an hour. A fucking HOUR! The weather has everything tied up and fucked up. I scream at the woman that my lover is very very sick. I can almost hear the dispatcher arching an eyebrow at that- gay rights are not a big thing in Maine. In fact, it’s so conservative, being gay can get you killed. I curse myself for saying what I said.

 

“I’m sorry sir. It will probably be an hour. There isn’t anything I can do.” She repeats.

 

“He’s burning UP!” I scream.

 

“Try to get him cooler.” Then she hangs up, the irresponsible bitch.

 

“Debbie!” I wail. 

 

“Aw, honey, come here.” She says, holding out her arms. I rush into her arms, keeping an eye on Brian. 

 

“Deb- the lady- the *bitch* said that it would be an hour! She said to ‘try to get him cooler’!”

 

“What an unhelpful cunt.” Deb mutters. “Okay, Sunshine. Let’s do that. Run another cold bath.” She sighs. I rush out and start the cool water in the tub. I get back quickly and sit by Brian on the opposite side of the bed than Deb.

 

“Deb?” Brian gasps.

 

“Brian!” I exclaim. Brian’s forehead is beaded with sweat; he opens his eyes.

 

“Jus!” He says quietly. “Is that really you? You look like an angel. A very scared angel.” He snorts to himself.

 

“I’m no angel, Brian. I *am* a little scared, though. I love you, Brian.”

 

He groans. “You’ve said that… so many… times… since we’ve… been up here… What’s going on with me? This **sucks!!**”

 

“Brian!” He looks like he’s losing consciousness again.

 

He opens his eyes and tries to focus on me. “I’m okay.” He slurs.

 

“Well, that may be,” Deb says matter-of-factly. “But you, asshole, are going to the hospital.”

 

“Nonono!” He protests weakly. “I don’t have insurance. No hospital. I’m fine.” He struggles to get up but can barely even move his head. 

 

“Look at you! You’re a fall down mess!” Deb sure has a way with words. “Honey, don’t worry about insurance or money, okay? We’ll deal with that later. We just want you better.” She gently strokes a lock of hair from Brian’s sweaty forehead.

 

“But the weather…”

 

“Brian, hospitals don’t close in bad weather. In fact, it’s times like these that they do their best business.” Debbie says softly.

 

“Justin- don’t cry, Justin; you cry too much lately.” Brian rasps. 

 

I choke out a laugh through my sobs. “You fucker…” I manage. “If you’d stop getting hurt and getting sick, you ass, I’d consider stopping. Otherwise, you fucker, I can’t help it. You’re going to kill me.”

 

Brian utters a weak laugh. “I’m not trying to. I don’t want to kill you.” 

 

Good lord, he looks awful- I mean he’s as gorgeous as always, but he looks in pain. 

 

“Don’t die, Jus…” Brian drawls deliriously. “Please don’t die.”

 

“Aw Brian, I won’t. If you don’t.” I swear, I *would* die if he died.

 

I suddenly notice Debbie has left the room; she comes back in with a huge bag of ice. “Sunshine, cool Brian down with this.” She hands me the bag. 

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, idiot- you. He loves you and wants you here- I’m going to get the gang over here in case we need help moving him- either into the tub, or onto the paramedic’s gurney, whichever comes first.”

 

I look down at the bag of ice. “Where should I put it?”

 

“His pulse points- anywhere he tells you to.” She quips. 

 

I grin and look down at Brian whose eyes are cracked open, staring at me. “Don’t be afraid, Sunsh… I won’t hurt you. I’d never intentionally hurt you.” Where did *that* come from? He sounds so weak. “I’m sorry for all this, Sunshine… I don’t wanna scare you…”

 

“Shhhhhh.” I admonish him. “As you say: Sorry’s bullshit. I love you- and you don’t scare me- I just want you well.” I place the bag of ice gently on his forehead. “Where would the ice feel best, Bri?”

 

He swallows with effort. “Um. My armpit, actually.” Then he guffaws slightly, wincing in pain. 

 

I gently place the bag near Brian’s armpit- which is a pulse point, isn’t it? I think in the back of my mind. I smile down at him. “Feel better?” I ask.

 

“Uh. Cold.” He says simply.

 

“Well, it IS ice, dumbass.” I answer affectionately.

 

He grins up at me. “Again, I’m sorry for this. Whatever the fuck this is.” He tries to wave his hand and fails. “God. I can’t move.”

 

“Brian, stop apologizing and trying to move, you fucker. If you have an itch on your nose, just tell me. I‘ll scratch it. I‘ll scratch all your itches.” I say, trying to make light while knowing my tears belie my feelings. I’m terrified. 

 

“I told you to stop crying, dammit!”

 

“You stop sounding like a weakling!” I counter. Brian chuckles slightly at that.

 

“I’ll try, Sunsh…”

 

“And say my full name. ‘Sunshine’.” I grin, my vision blurred from tears.


	43. Chapter 43

  
Author's notes: The gang rally 'round Brian and Justin in their time of need and help arrives. Thanks to all reviewers and readers and BJ fans! <:->

* * *

POV JUSTIN:

 

Suddenly the room is filled with Deb, Michael, Ben, Lindsay, Emmett and Ted. “Brian!” Michael exclaims.

 

“Shhhhh- please Mikey… not so loud! My head hurts!”

 

“Did he take something this time?” Michael demands of me.

 

I sigh. “No. No, Michael. He hasn’t taken anything. Fuck YOU!”

 

“Mikey, why do you keep thinking I’m such a junkie?” Brian whispers.

 

“So, the armpit, eh?” Deb snorts, ignoring the exchange and remarking at where I placed the bag of ice.

 

“Well, it’s a pulse point.” I protest.

 

“Yeah, Deb.” Brian croaks. 

 

She chuckles. “Well, I thought you might pick a pulse point a little south of there, but at least you’re not delirious anymore, Honey. And I guess there *is* the matter of 'shrinkage'.” She says, gently massaging the bag of ice. 

 

Oh good lord- she and Michael must watch Seinfeld together- Michael mentioned the same thing to me on our excursion to Folly Island.

“But Brian," Debbie continues, "you are really becoming a pain in the ass. You feel like you have a fire in you, your fever is so high. And Brian, these bruises are looking awful- you aren‘t healing.”

 

I frown and then quickly run over and get the thermometer. “I haven’t seen how high his fever is yet.” I say, sounding desperate.

 

“Sunshine… quit being such a drama queen. It’s just a little flu.”

 

“Brian, you never get fucking sick! And why would it come back after the fever had nearly broken?!”

 

Deb turns and glares at me- and I suddenly realize that of course, Brian doesn’t want us to mope and dote on him. I look down and she then takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I look up at her and she gives me a small reassuring smile that Brian doesn’t see.

 

“Okay, asshole. Open wide- we all know you’re well versed in how to do that.” Deb says, holding out the thermometer.

 

Brian smirks but then opens his mouth. After a few minutes, Debbie pulls out the thermometer and whistles. “104.5 again. Fuck, Brian. You been watchin’ pornos or something? You‘re off the charts!” Deb snarks- but I can see the worry in her face. 

 

“Porns. I wish.” He mutters, also seeing the worry in her face. “Deb, please don’t worry…” 

 

“I ain’t worried, you creep. You’re just being very inconvenient.” She rallies. “Hun, you rest now, okay? We’re gonna try another cold bath just to get your temperature down. Unless the paramedics get here sooner.” 

 

Without a word I rush into the bathroom and turn off the water. I’m so freaked out right now I feel like running out into the storm and screaming at the top of my lungs. But he needs me. Brian needs all of us. I turn to leave the bathroom and practically run full throttle into Ben.

 

“Justin…” He says in a calm voice. “Don’t flip out, hon. Brian’s a fighter. He’ll be fine.”

 

“That’s what everyone was saying earlier today- and now his fever’s back and it’s just as high as before!” I nearly shout.

 

“Well, keep it together- for Brian. He doesn’t need to see us all worried. You know him as well as any of us. You know he hates pity, he hates people worrying about him.” 

 

“Yeah.” I whisper. “I’m just so scared…” Ben comes forward and hugs me and I cling to him. “I just love him so much. I love him so much, Ben.” I sob. “I’d die for him.”

 

“Shhh. I know. We all know how much you two love each other. Just be strong. He needs you to be strong, Justin.”

 

I look up at him. “Why are you being so attentive? It’s not like you and Brian- or you and I- are terribly close. I mean, I appreciate it- I just don’t understand.”

 

Ben gets a small smile. “Justin, believe it or not, I have a great deal of respect for Brian. And for you.”

 

“You do?”

 

His smile widens. “Yes, Justin, I do. You two have had it rough- but look at you now. You’re beautiful together. And the love between you is palpable. Plus Brian had some really sage advice for me the other night about Michael.”

 

I stare at him. “Um.” I mutter, unable to think of anything to say as I cry.

 

“Go, honey. Splash some cold water on your face and go sit by Brian. He needs you.” Ben says quietly. “I’ll run a little warm water into the bath- I think straight cold Maine water might be too much of a shock for him.”

 

I thank him genuinely, then quickly run past Ben, touched by his compassion. Everyone except Mel and Gus are crowded around Brian again and I groan inwardly, knowing how he hates this kind of thing. Brian spots me and smiles slightly. 

 

“Bri…” I sigh, sitting next to him opposite from Debbie. “Uh, Deb, Ben’s making sure the bath is the perfect temperature- it will be ready soon.” 

 

Just then there’s an insistent knock on the back door. Michael jumps up and goes to answer it. Then it’s pandemonium- the paramedics rush into the room and stare at Brian a brief moment. “What the hell happened to this man?” One of them utters, staring at his bruises and obviously weakened state.

 

“Um… He was beaten up a couple nights ago. Now he has a really high fever.” I say, not liking that a paramedic is shocked by how Brian looks- I mean, they’ve seen it all, I thought.

 

“And you’re just now calling us?” The other one asks incredulously, rushing over to the bed. “Get the gurney!” He demands. “Someone, can you help my partner get that?” He shakes his hair of rain water, trying not to get Brian wet. “What’s his temp?” He asks us.

 

“104.5.” Deb says. 

 

“Fuck.” Is his response. “Name?”

 

“Brian.” I choke out. Fuck, I’m so weak. “His name’s Brian Kinney.”

 

“Brian?”

 

Brian opens his eyes and looks at the medic. “Who’re you?” He sounds terrible.

 

“My name’s Bill. I’m a paramedic. We’re going to take you to the hospital, Brian. Just relax- we’ll do all the work, okay?”

 

“Please hurry.” I urge. Michael and the other medic arrive with the gurney.

 

“No. No hospitals. I hate hospitals.” Brian manages.

 

I step up to him. “You. Are. Going. To. The. Hospital.” I tell him. “Brian, I’ll be there the whole time- but it’s not negotiable.”

 

Brian regards me and then closes his eyes. 

 

“Brian? Brian!” I yell. He seems to seize a moment and then he stops breathing. “BRIAN!!!” I vaguely notice it’s not just my voice calling his name- everyone in the room is alarmed. The medic starts to perform CPR and I absolutely freak out. “What’s going on!!?”

 

The medic stops for a moment, feeling Brian’s chest and listening. Everyone is frozen, silent, the only noise is the rain and rolling thunder. “He’s breathing on his own now.” He mutters, breathless. The two paramedics lift Brian onto the gurney. They wheel him out rapidly and I run after them without even looking back. “I’m going with you!” I tell them, hurtling into the back of the ambulance as they push Brian‘s gurney in. “Hurry!” I demand. They don’t hesitate- one of the paramedics enters the back with me as the other gets in to drive. I gently mop the sweat and rain from Brian’s brow as we lurch forward and speed towards the hospital, sirens blaring.

 

“Justin?” He mutters.

 

“Yes. Brian, I’m right here.” I hold his hand as Bill puts an IV into his arm. 

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“We’re in an ambulance- and we’re on our way to the hospital.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here with you.”

 

“’Sweetie’? What the fuck?” Brian grumbles. “Where’d that come from?”

 

I grin in spite of the circumstances. “That’s right. ‘Sweetie’. I figure with you in this weakened state, I may as well take advantage of the situation.”

 

“I’m already sick, Justin. Don’t make it worse. You sound like Deb.”

 

Bill the medic smiles at me. “Seems he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.”

 

“He never has.” I smirk at him. “How’s he doing?” I ask.

 

“I think he’ll be fine, sir.” Bill says.

 

“My name’s Justin.” I reach out my hand. He takes it and we shake.

 

“Bill.” Yeah. I know.

 

“And this is Brian.” I offer, even though I know Bill already knows that- just like I already knew his name.

 

“Hi, Brian.” He says, although at this moment I’m not sure Brian is conscious. 

 

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” I whisper.

 

“I think he has pneumonia. But he should be okay.” He repeats. He looks down at Brian. “He’s beautiful.” 

 

I look at Bill, shocked- I mean, that isn’t exactly appropriate to say in this context- or any, really- it’s obvious that Brian’s my partner! My gaydar didn’t ping once upon meeting this guy. But I’ve been rather preoccupied. I start to feel that there’s something off about this guy- I don’t comment on his remark though- he’s got Brian’s life in his hands. “Yeah. He is. He’s drop dead gorgeous.” Then I think a moment. “Bad choice of words.”

 

Bill chuckles. “I’ve already told you: he should be fine.”

 

I look out the back window at the storm. “How long till we get to the hospital?”

 

“A few minutes, Justin. This weather makes it hard to hurry like we normally would.”

 

I nod. Brian’s eyes open again. “Jus…?”

 

“I’m still here, Brian. Brian, this is Bill.” I say quietly, not sure how much he’s picked up on in the last moments.

 

“Already dating someone new?” Brian asks quietly. 

 

“Brian, you idiot, no! He’s the paramedic. He’s been helping you.” Even if he *is* creepy, I think to myself.

 

Brian smiles a little. “It was a joke, Sunshine. Lighten up.”

 

“Well, not much seems funny to me at the moment.” I mutter.

 

“Brian, hello again. How do you feel?” Bill asks.

 

Brian turns his attention to him. “Bill, right?”

 

Bill nods.

 

“I feel like shit. What’s wrong with me? And I don’t have insurance. So I won‘t be able to pay the bill, Bill.” Brian adds.

 

Bill smiles. “I think you have a bad case of pneumonia but we‘ll find out for sure when you get to the hospital. But you should be just fine- you’re an otherwise healthy man in the prime of his life.”

 

“Except all the bruises and broken ribs.” Brian interjects.

 

“Yeah, those don’t look good, but they’ll check those out too. And don’t worry about insurance right now, okay? Just take it easy.”

 

“Pneumonia? Is Justin going to catch it from me?” Brian asks.

 

“If he hasn’t shown signs of it yet, I doubt it. But the doctors will probably give him some meds to hopefully prevent the possibility of that happening.”

 

“Thanks, doc.” Brian murmurs. My heart swells- yet *again*, Brian’s thinking of others first even though he’s the one hurting.

 

“I’m just a paramedic, Brian. You’ll see the doctor soon, at the hospital.”

 

“’Kay.”

 

“He must be really sick if he’s willing to see the doctor.” I say, mostly to myself.

 

Brian manages a smirk. “Shut up, smartass.”

 

Bill smiles and looks at Brian. “I can see we’ll have an ornery patient tonight.” He grins. “But a very hot one.”

 

Brian rolls his eyes and regards Bill critically. “Is that really an appropriate thing for you to say? I mean, fuck!”

 

Inwardly, I sneer at Bill and am proud of Brian for speaking his mind and mine. Brian could care less if Bill is in charge of his life right now- it’s obvious he’s is hitting on Brian, and Brian’s calling him on it. 

 

I clear my throat. “Um, Bill? I think we’re here.”

 

Suddenly the doors to the cab of the ambulance are flung open by the other medic and Bill snaps out of his apparent reverie over Brian and steps into action. He and his partner wheel Brian from the vehicle into the ER entrance; I’m right on their heels.

 

“Jus…?” I hear Brian say.

 

“Right here- I’m right here!” I yell. “I’m here!” I rush up to the side of the gurney and grasp his hand.

 

He looks over at me and smiles. Then the medic tells me I can’t go any further. “Stay over there in the waiting area.” The one who’s not Bill tells me as they continue down the hall.

 

“Brian, I’ll be right here!” I call to him. But he looks out of it again. I go to a payphone to call everyone but then realize not only do I not know the numbers, but the phones are out at our cabin. Brian’s cell phone! Then I realize the batteries are likely dead by now. I begin crying again- or crying still, I’m not sure. I feel so scared and alone right now. And terribly worried.

 

Suddenly I feel arms around me from behind and I nearly shove my elbow into whoever it is- but then I smell basil and tomato sauce and I know it’s Debbie. I completely lose it.

 

“Hush, Sunshine.” She says in my ear. “How many times do I have to tell you that Brian’s a fighter?”

 

Then everyone’s around me, putting their hands on me comfortingly. 

 

“He really is.” Lindsay says in a low voice. Gus is in her arms and the sight of him, this miniature version of Brian, makes me collapse. Michael and Emmett and Ted catch me before I hit the ground. 

 

“Hey, hey, Boy Wonder!” Michael says, alarmed. They all lead me to a chair and sit me down. Debbie is suddenly right in my face, hugging me again.

 

“Sunshine, you heard what I just said, didn’t you? Brian is going to be fine.”

 

I look around at the ‘freakshow family’- they’ve all been crying- in fact they all still are. Gus is bawling outright.

 

“Sweetie, he’ll be fine. Brian’s made it through worse.” Emmett says with a decided hitch in his voice.

 

“Then why is everyone freaking out?” I demand. “You’re all crying!” I know- they’re just trying to help. But face facts: none of us know what’s going to happen.

 

“Justin,” Ben says, his voice cracking. “You know we have no guarantees. But you also know we all know Brian. Now, what did the doctor say?” He asks. I am really starting to like Ben more and more. He’s so no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is. And calm. 

 

“I didn’t talk to a doctor… I just talked to the paramedic.” 

 

“And…?”

 

“He thinks it’s pneumonia.”

 

Debbie stamps her foot. “AND?” She demands impatiently.

 

I look at her, surprised at her outburst. “Um. And… um. Well he seemed to think Brian would be okay.” I see the group exhale in relief. “But still…”

 

“It’ll be okay, Justin.” Ted says. “As Deb says, Brian’s been through more than this. This is nothing.”

 

I look at Ted, a bit taken aback at his kindness about Brian. Normally they snark at each other non-stop. “Thanks, Ted.” I sniff.

 

“You know, as much as he and I get on each other’s cases, I do love him you know.” He admits, looking down at his shoes.

 

I smile as well as I can. “I know- you know, Brian feels the same about you.”

 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

 

“It’s true, Ted.” I insist. “He doesn’t suffer fools- you wouldn’t be in his life if he didn’t love you.”

 

“I’m his whipping post.”

 

“Yeah. Often, you are. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. Again, you wouldn’t be in his circle of friends if he didn’t.”

 

“We are kind of a select few, aren’t we?” Emmett muses, sniffling. “It’s easy to take it for granted.”

 

“Quit being maudlin.” I say, swiping tears from my face. I wish Vic were here. He had to stay in the Pitts because he had to go in for a treatment. I know Brian would be grateful for his presence…

 

“Mr. Taylor?” A voice behind me says. I swing around and see a doctor standing there.

 

“Doctor! How is he? How is Brian?” 

 

“Mr. Taylor, he’s asking for you. He should be fine- we just want to keep him overnight for observation and run some more tests.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, pushing the doctor into the ward so he can show me where Brian is. 

 

“A very nasty case of influenza, Mr. Taylor. In his weakened state due to his bruising and broken ribs, his immune system was compromised so he was hit hard by the virus. He’s going to take longer to get over this, but I’d recommend Tylenol, bed rest, fluids and he should be better within a couple weeks. What happened to him? He looks… like he’s had a run-in with a truck.”

 

“He was beaten up a few nights ago.”

 

“Well, that was a terrible beating he took- unusual for up in these parts. I’m surprised you didn’t come in when it happened- same with his feet-- Hey!” He protests as I push him harder.

 

“He insisted we didn’t! He’s been in too many hospitals in his life and he hates them. Take me to him, now, please! And he’ll be okay, right?” I ask urgently.

 

The doctor leads me to a door. “Yes, Mr. Taylor. Mr. Kinney should be fine.”

 

I thank him briefly and shove past him into the room. I’m not trying to be rude but I have to see him. “Brian!” I nearly shout.

 

Brian looks over, an IV in his arm and he’s got a tube in his nose for oxygen. “Hey Sunshine.” He says simply, smiling. “Not so loud.” 

 

The nurse tending to him eyes me. “Yes, please sir- not so loud. The ward has thin walls.” He scolds.

 

“Sorry sir.” I tell the nurse sheepishly.

 

“It’s alright. Just keep it down, sir.” The nurse requests. “Okay, Brian, I’ll be back later for your vitals.” He strokes Brian’s arm briefly- and unnecessarily.

 

I ignore the nurse, rush over to Brian and grab his hand which is outside the blanket. “Oh, Brian, I was so scared!”

 

“I know you were. You wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up about how much you love me. Not that you ever shut up about that anyway.” He adds.

 

I grin.

 

“And you won’t stop fucking *crying* for fuck’s sake. As I said before, I’m surprised you aren’t seriously dehydrated by now.”

 

I swipe my cheeks of tears and keep grinning. “Brian- you… you…”

 

Then the door opens and everyone else files in. 

 

“Do you still have a fever, sweetie?” Deb asks.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Brian groans. 

 

I look down at his chart. “Yeah. 101.” I say. 

 

Debbie ducks out into the hall. “Sorry Lindsay honey. I wouldn’t bring Gus in yet. Brian still has a fever.” I overhear her say.

 

We hear Gus weeping upon hearing that he can’t see his father yet. My heart breaks and I can see Brian’s is breaking too. I leave the room for a moment. “Gussy?” I say- Lindsay is crying a little, even though she knows Brian’ll be okay. “Gus- you have to understand- your Daddy wants to see you very very much. He’s just sick, and doesn’t want you to get sick too.” I explain. “C’mere, Gus.” I take him from Lindsay’s arms and up to the small window in the door to Brian’s room. 

 

Brian’s yet again surrounded by everyone; I knock lightly on the door and Brian looks over. He smiles and waves at the boy. “Hey Gus!” He mouths.

 

“Wha’s wrong with Daddee?” Gus whimpers.

 

“Gus, we talked about this. He’s sick- but he’ll be fine.”

 

“What are all those machines for?”

 

“They just monitor how well he’s doing. He’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t worry about him.”

 

“I wanna see him up close. I want to sleep next to him. Play wit’ him. I want Daddee! I luv him!”

 

“I know you do. And he’ll hold you again- soon.” I look back through the window and see Brian attempting to get up. I hand Gus to Linds and rush in. “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell at him. “And why the fuck are you people just watching him?”

 

Brian sighs. “Justin, I just wanted to come up to the window and say hi to Sonny Boy.”

 

“And what? Pull out and off all the tubes and wires attached to you that are meant to keep you safe?” I shout. “God, Brian! For such a brilliant man, you sure are stupid sometimes!” I lean him back onto the bed. “Listen, everyone, I think Brian needs some space and some rest now, okay?”

 

“Listen, Justin you aren’t in charge he--…” Michael starts, protesting.

 

But Brian interrupts. “Mikey, he’s right. I feel pretty tired.”

1.5.6441.28807 


	44. Chapter 44

  
Author's notes:

Justin and Brian talk about what Brian's been through- he's a little hazy about it

Thanks for any reviews you have time to submit! 

* * *

 

 

POV BRIAN

 

 

Lord, this bites. I hate hospitals, and I *really* hate being sick. I glance over at the clock- I’ve been asleep in this sterile bed for 2 hours. Then I notice Sunshine slumped in the chair by me, sleeping fitfully. I smile despite my situation. I guess I must have been really sick for them to take me to the hospital. I sigh. Poor Justin. I’m too young to be this sickly- and he’s definitely too young to be dealing with a sickly partner.

Fuck, I hardly even notice the nurses coming in and out and doing shit to me. Some guy is siphoning blood out of me right now. I notice that he seems to be caressing my arm and I feel his hand trail down to my thigh. What the fuck? I look at him and he pulls away abruptly. “Mr. Kinney, you’re awake! I’m just getting some blood for some tests. How do you feel?”

 

I eye him suspiciously, but his expression is guileless and I decide that his touch must have been due to the late hour and being half asleep- he looks tired. His arm must have simply dropped onto the bed and onto my leg.

 

“I feel better,” I say simply, quietly, not wanting to wake Sunshine. 

 

He stands. “Your boyfriend, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“He’s been here since you arrived. He’s a loyal partner. You’re lucky.”

 

“I know,” I whisper- DEFinitely not wanting Sunshine awake to hear that declaration.

 

“Well, get some rest. Someone will be in again for vitals in about an hour.”

 

As soon as he leaves, I look over at Justin who is still sound asleep. Which, frankly, is odd- he’s a heavy sleeper, but I’d expect he’d be awake by now after the nurse’s and my exchange. I feel my eyelids droop and I drift off, mentally shrugging it off.

 

 

I wake up and sunlight is slanting in through the hospital window, early light- yellow, tentative. I look over and am a little surprised that Sunshine’s *still* sleeping. Still, I smile and watch him, his chin down to his chest, his longish silvery blond bangs obscuring his brows; his flushed cheeks are pudgy because of his position and his pink lips are in a sleep-pout. He looks like a little boy and fuck if my heart doesn’t clench... I suddenly notice that his breathing is erratic.

 

“Justin!” I say loudly. He doesn’t respond. “Justin!!” I repeat.

 

He snorts as he tries to inhale deeply. He snorts again and his head lifts and his eyes open. He coughs. “Fuck!” He sputters. “Wow…”

 

“Sunshine? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just slept hard. Ouch!” He mutters when he tries to stand. “I’m so stiff! Stupid chair!” I must look alarmed because he quickly smiles at me. “I’m fine, Brian! Just sore from that chair!” He comes to the bed and sits next to me. “How do you feel?”

 

I look at him. He appears okay- his sunshiney self. Still… “Are you okay, Justin?”

 

“Yeah! I’m fine!”

 

Just then a nurse comes in. 

 

“Nurse, could you please take a look at Justin here? I just want to be sure he’s okay,” I blurt out.

 

“Brian! What the fuck!”

 

I ignore him. “He slept really hard- he’s a heavy sleeper, but not as heavy as I noticed last night…” I add.

 

“What? Brian, don’t be weird,” Sunshine protests.  


 

The nurse looks from me to Justin and back to me. “Sure, Mr. Kinney. No problem. Let me just get your vitals first- you should be able to leave today if all looks fine,” he adds. 

 

He takes my vitals and notes them in my charts. Then, against Justin’s protests, he takes Justin’s pulse and blood pressure. “Hm.”

 

“What?” I ask, not liking the sound of that ‘hm’.

 

“Mr. Taylor, you’re pulse and blood pressure are a bit low, but judging by how you’re acting, you just woke up, which could explain it. We’ll check you when we check Mr. Kinney again later, okay? In the meantime, breakfast should be in shortly- I’m sorry to say.”

 

I chuckle despite myself. The nurse smiles warmly at me and leaves. I like that nurse- Rob, I think. The night nurse makes me very uneasy. Thank fuck we’re probably out of here today.

 

Sunshine looks at me, puzzled. “What was that all about?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Justin. I just thought you slept a little more deeply than normal last night. Especially in these circumstances.”

 

Justin looks at me, shrugs, and then smiles. “Brian, what’s important is that you sound and seem so much better today!” He kisses me deeply. I feel my cock harden and tug at him to get him to lie next to me on my bed. “Ahhh… shit,” he breathes as he situates himself to lie flush against me; I can feel his cock, hard as steel against my hip. We kiss passionately and I feel his hot breath quicken against my cheek as he breathes through his nose. “Brian,” he finally gasps, “you had me so scared… Brian, you were delirious…”

 

“Sorry.” What did I just say?

 

“No… I just… fuck, you were so weak, Brian- not in spirit—“ I roll my eyes; he’s such a sap; “--But you could hardly move, Bri…”

 

We’re now regarding each other, our faces inches apart. Finally, I sigh. “I know, Justin. I’ve done nothing but freak you out during this so-called vacation.” It’s true- and I have to admit, I feel like a shit for that.

 

“No, you haven’t freaked me out, Brian. Well, maybe a little- but through no fault of your own.” He kisses my jaw and then looks at me again, still concerned. “Do you remember the last two nights? As I said, you were a bit delirious.”

 

I think about it. “Just last night- late, here. Before that, I don’t remember much,” I admit. “What happened?”

 

“Well…” he hesitates. “You got really REALLY sick.”

 

“I figured as much.”

 

“You apparently have or had a really awful case of influenza. You had us all pretty scared.”

 

“I thought I was fine after that frigid bath Debbie made me take,” I shiver at the memory.

 

“No. You got sick again. Worse.”

 

“Wait… did you call me sweetie at some point? And you said ‘I love you‘ a lot.” That last part is a statement. It’s a given.

 

Justin giggles. “Leave it to you to remember that and not much else!”

 

“You DID then? Fuck me.”

 

“Later,” Justin quips.

 

“And Gus… he was scared.” It’s starting to all come back to me. Well, some.

 

“Yes. He probably still is a little bit. But until your fever’s gone, you probably shouldn’t see or hold him.”

 

“Yeah,” I sigh.

 

Justin stretches as he lies next to me. “But I can hold you,” he says, nuzzling my neck and wrapping his arms gently around me. “You even scared the paramedic when he looked at you, all bruised, battered and sick.”

 

Aw man.

 

“But he still tried to fucking hit on you,” he adds.

 

I balk at that. “The paramedic tried to hit on me? Sick as I was? In front of you? Where? In the ambulance? That’s really unprofessional and… and, fuck it, that’s just plain wrong!”

 

“That’s what I thought, but he was helping you so I didn’t say anything. But you pretty much shot him down.”

 

“I should fucking hope so!” I exclaim, then I wince in pain. “Do they have anything for pain?”

 

“Tylenol, that’s it. They didn’t want to give you something stronger because they were afraid you might slip into a coma.” Justin’s voice wavers a bit and I look at him closely. He’s been crying a lot the last days, that’s for sure; and hard, from the looks of it. Even if it wasn’t in the last night, his eyes are still slightly puffy, dark circles ring his red eyes and slight, chalky traces of dried tear trails are still evident on his cheeks. “I can ask if you can have something stronger now if you want,” he adds.

 

“In a minute, Sunshine. I don’t want to be out of it right now.” I squeeze him to me. “Hey, how’re you doing?” I whisper. “I mean, *really* doing…”

 

Justin looks down and his lip quivers. “Scared, I guess. And now relieved that you’re okay. Or will be.”

 

“Well, don’t be scared because of me, Sunshine. I’ve survived much worse than this.” I reach up and cup his chin, raising his face to look at me. I smile.

 

“That’s what everyone kept saying. And I know that- but I’ve never seen you this sick. Apparently, the beating you took from Craig and your flight through the woods- and *I* believe the lack of sleep because of your… your nightmares- it all weakened your immunity somewhat, so the influenza hit you really hard.”

 

 

“You told the docs about all of that?” I ask quietly. He looks at me with an unreadable expression. “I don’t mind if you did, Sunshine- I’m just asking.”

 

“No, Bri, I didn’t. I didn't tell them about your run through the woods, although your cut up feet were hard to explain; I just said a glass broke and you accidentally stepped in it. And I didn't tell them about the nightmares- it's just that *I* think that your lack of sleep because of them may have also contributed.” 

 

I gently trace my thumb along his soft cheek. “You know, we probably shouldn't be lying here together, or kissing- I’m not sure PDA’s in Maine are a good idea. Plus, I still have a fever.”

 

Justin suddenly grins, then leans in and kisses me fervently, surprising me. He then pulls back and looks deeply into my eyes. “You pull another stunt like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

 

I smile. “It’s not like I had a choice, Justin.” 

 

“I know,” he whispers, looking at my lips. “Just take care of yourself, Brian. I need you around.” He kisses me again and then pulls back. I lick my lips, savoring his flavor.

 

I think back on the last few days, trying to remember what went on. It’s kind of a blur still. I shudder when I remember running through the storm in the dark- and the reason why I did that. 

 

Justin apparently intuits what I’m thinking. “Bri, don’t. Don’t think about it.”

 

“It’s just… It’s just my memory of the last few days is coming back more clearly,” I say quietly.

 

“That’s good. But don’t focus on the bad, ‘kay?”

 

I blink. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Deb pokes her head in. “You feelin’ better, sweetie?”

 

Gawd, I must have been *really* sick if Deb’s calling *me* sweetie. I wave her in and the rest of the freakshow file in after her. 

 

“You got some sleep, I saw,” she remarks.

 

I nod. “I still have a fever, but it’s lower than before.”

 

“You had a fever of 104.5 when you got in here, you know that, kiddo? You were pretty out of it. More lucid than the time you had a fever that high before, but you were in and out of it.”

 

“So I hear,” I say simply. 

 

“Do you really feel better?” Lindsay asks, sitting next to me and Justin on the edge of the bed.

 

“Yeah. Just pain- my body and feet hurt a lot. My throat and head hurt. But I’m okay.”

 

Lindsay wipes her eyes and smiles.

 

“Where’s Gus?”

 

“With Mel at home.”

 

I nod. I look at Justin. “When can I get out of here? I hate hospitals.”

 

“Well, you’ve been here overnight- the doc said you could leave today so long as there weren’t any complications or unanticipated results of your bloodwork and other tests.”

 

“Thank God,” I mutter. “Where're my clothes? I want to leave now.” I look under the covers and down at the skimpy hospital gown I have on and grimace.

 

“Let’s wait for the doctor to release you, Brian.”

 

I sigh. As if on cue the doctor comes into the room. “My goodness, you have a lot of visitors!” He remarks, looking at the small crowd surrounding my bed. 

 

I roll my eyes. “I know. They’re all a bunch of pests,” I snark. Lindsay lightly slaps my hand.

 

The doctor chuckles. “Well, let me check your vitals, and if all’s fine, you can check out. The tests were fine. Just be sure to take it easy the next couple of weeks- you do still have a fever, and this influenza kicked you pretty hard.”

 

The doc checks me out and then says we can leave. 

 

“What about payment?” I ask him quietly. 

 

“We’ll work out a payment plan since you don’t have insurance. Just give me a call in a couple days to let me know how you are and we’ll talk about it then. The hospital release paperwork is at the nurse’s desk,” he smiles.

 

I’m shocked but I smile back. “Thanks, doc!” 

 

“Sure thing. Take it easy.” He removes the various tubes and whatever else is attached to me and stuck in me. I quickly get out of bed and Justin grins, handing me my clothes. I ignore the pain in my feet at the moment- must be adrenaline for finally getting out of here.

 

“Um, Brian, you’re kind of flashing everybody with that flappy gown,” Sunshine informs me.

 

But I could care less- I want out of here. I pull on my pants and rip off the gown. I pull on my shirt, grab Justin’s hand and yank him out of there. I fill out the paperwork and rush out of the hospital. The rest of the ‘fam’ come out of the hospital soon after us.

 

“Where’s the car?” I demand.

 

“Geez, Brian, calm down! We’ll get out of here soon enough! And be careful of your feet, you idiot!”

 

Just then, a vaguely familiar looking man walks up to me. “Brian! Good to see you up and about!” The guy is fucking cruising me! “I’m one of the paramedics who brought you in. I‘m Bill.”

 

Ah. I shake his hand, finally having to pull it away because he’s not letting go. I see Justin roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye. This must be the guy Justin was telling me about hitting on me in the ambulance.

 

“Justin,” he acknowledges, only glancing at him with a smile. 

 

“Hello, Bill. C’mon, Brian, the car’s over here.”

 

The ‘fam’ looks on curiously. Justin pulls me towards the garage and I follow, smirking. Sunshine’s so funny when he’s jealous. But I got a strange vibe from that guy, too, and am glad to leave. “We’ll meet you all back at the cabins. Brian’ll probably need to rest for awhile. We’ll call you,” he says over his shoulder.

 

I don’t say anything but simply get in the car. When we get close to the property, I finally ask, “So, that was the guy, eh?” I grin. I like to goad Sunshine sometimes.

 

Justin grimaces. “Yeah. I can’t believe he was *still* cruising you. I mean, even yesterday it was obvious you and I are together. What a jerk.”

 

“Aw, relax, Sunshine. He’s a kid.” I don’t tell Justin I got a weird vibe off him- Sunshine's had enough to worry about.

 

“I’m 19, Brian, and I’d never do something like that.”

 

“You’re different, Justin. You’re a very mature 19 year old.” And he is.

 

He smiles for the first time since we ran into Bill. “Thanks, Bri.” 

 

We pull up to the cabin and I practically leap out and up to the door. The storm has diminished somewhat, but Justin still rushes over to unlock the door, apparently not wanting me to get a chill. We get inside and I go to the living room and flop onto the couch. I ignore the pain in my feet.

 

“Brian, really, be careful of your feet.”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

“Cocoa, Brian? Warm you up?”

 

Normally I’d scoff at that- me and chocolate? No way. But this time, I simply reply, “Sure.” I feel cold, wet and still feverish and I pull the throw from the back of the sofa to cover me up.

 

When Justin comes into the living room with the cocoa, he stares at me, concerned. “Brian, are you alright?”

 

“Just cold, wet and not feeling so good. I’ll be just fine.”

 

He comes over and puts the cup on the coffee table near me. “You’re shivering. You were fine in the car.”

 

“I’m still fine. Just cold.” I don’t tell him more than that- that I feel like total shit- because he’s worried over me enough and I don't want him hovering over my every cough or sniffle. He goes over and gets the fire going as thunder claps overhead. I roll my eyes. “When is this fucking storm going to *end*?” I complain. 

 

Justin is back next to me. He curls up next to me. “You really feel okay?” He asks, ignoring my comment. “You don’t look like you feel well.”

 

“Thanks a bunch.”

 

Justin feels my forehead. “That’s one persistent fever you’ve got, Bri. Let me go get you some Tylenol and dry clothes.” With that, he unfurls himself from around me and goes to get the pills and clothing. Hovering bastard.  


 

When he comes back, I’ve closed my eyes. “Here, Brian,” he whispers, putting the pills in my palm. “Take them with some cocoa. It’ll make you feel better and warm you up.” Reluctantly, I sit up and do as he says. “And put on these sweats and wool socks.” I gingerly change, taking extra care of my torn up feet with the socks, noting my feet don’t seem to look worse- just still fucked up. Then I lay back down, pull the throw back over me and Justin is again lying next to me, his arm across my chest. 

 

“Get up,” I say. His eyes snap open and he looks hurt. “Join me under the blanket,” I add and he smiles and scoots under the blanket next to me. He gently puts his hand up my sweatshirt and traces his fingers across my damaged torso. 

 

“Heal faster,” he whispers to me.

 

I scoff at him. “I’ll do my best.” With that, we both doze off to the sounds of each other’s breathing and the storm raging outside, the cocoa forgotten.


	45. Chapter 45

  
Author's notes: Feedback loved- this story's nearing its end...  


* * *

POV JUSTIN 

When I wake up beside Brian, it’s dark out. The rain smatters against the windows and the light is dim coming only from the dying fire in the fireplace. I carefully get up so as not to disturb Brian and go light some candles. I fucking wish the electricity would come back on. There’s a rapping on the back door. Thinking it’s the gang, I go over and swing the door open.

I stand here shocked. “Bill? What the hell are you doing here?” For some reason, this really spooks me.

“I got your address from the hospital forms. I thought I’d stop by and see how the patient is doing.”

At that moment, Brian limps in, yawning and stretching. He stops cold. “What the fuck?” He mutters, staring at Bill.

“Hey! How you feelin’, Bri?” Bill asks cheerfully. “I brought you some soup.” He proffers a container to Brian but Brian simply stands there not accepting it, so Bill puts it on the counter. “Helluva storm, eh? It's been years since I've seen one that lasted this long.” He shakes off his coat. I’m still holding the door and the storm is blowing into the kitchen. “Nice place,” he says, looking around. “Yours?” He asks Brian. 

Brian finds his voice. “What the hell are you doing here? And excuse me for not thanking you for the soup- you could have poisoned it.”

Bill laughs lightly. “I didn’t poison it, Bri.”

“And don’t call him ‘Bri’,” I say for some reason- I guess I'm protective of my nickname for Brian. 

“I think you should leave, *Bill*,” Brian says forcefully. “It’s highly unorthodox and probably illegal for you to be here under these circumstances. Go away.”

“Aw, I just got here. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

If we have a repeat of what Craig did the other night, I don’t think Brian could stand it physically. I know *I* couldn’t stand it emotionally or psychologically. I'll blow into a million pieces. 

“Listen ‘Bill’ or whatever your name is, you’re not welcome here- I’ll call the police if you don’t leave,” Brian says menacingly. “I don’t fucking *know* you.”

Bill frowns at him. Warning bells go off even louder in my head. “Please, just go,” I plead with him.

He turns to me and wags his finger my face. “Listen, blondie, I’m not here to see you!” He sneers.

Brian steps up to him, just inches from his face; “Don’t you fucking talk to him like that! Get the fuck out!” He seethes, fists clenched. Fuck, even as hurt as he is, Brian's fucking scary.

“You know, you’re beautiful when you’re angry,” Bill grins, unaffected by the rage in Brian’s voice. 

‘This guy is a mad man,’ I think to myself. I back up and rush into the other room. I grab a golf club and run back to the kitchen. They’re still at a stand-off and I suck in a breath.

“Get out of here!” I yell, wielding the club. “You’re trespassing!”

“You let me in,” Bill snarls, not taking his eyes from Brian.

“No. I opened the door. You simply *came* in. If I kill you with this club, no jury would question that you were trespassing.” Frankly, I’m terrified and don’t know if I could ever bash him with the golf club. I’m simply not a violent person. But if he makes any gesture to show that he’s going to hurt Brian, I’m sure I would and could do anything to stop him. I’m shaking and the golf club I’m wielding is shaking, too.

Bill eyes me and looks at the club. Brian hasn’t moved- he’s still staring at 'Bill' in a threatening manner, still just inches from the guy’s face. “You really should get the fuck out *now*, you psychopathic loser." Fuck, if Brian were talking to me like this, I'd be in the next county. He's frightening.

But Bill leers at him, then growls, “See ya around, BRI.” I don’t like the sound of that. With one last glance at the golf club in my grasp, he turns and walks back out into the storm, grinning.

Brian slams and locks the door, then exhales and gently hugs his sides, obviously in pain. “What is with this place, attracting all these psychos?”

I rush over to him, dropping the club in my hands. “Are you okay, Brian?”

“Yeah. What a crazy fucker.”

“I have a bad feeling about this guy, Brian.” I put my arms around him and lean my head against his chest, ever mindful of his wounds.

“Well, he’s gone now.” Brian hugs me back. “C’mon. Let’s fix something to eat.” He takes ‘Bill’s’ soup from the counter and drops the whole thing in the trash.

I feel his forehead- he rolls his eyes. “How do you feel? We slept a long time. You still feel a little warm.”

“I feel alright, I guess.”

There’s another knock at the back door. I grab the club from where I dropped it. Brian snickers. “It’s alright, Sunshine. It’s just Debbie and the fucking 'gang'.” Brian opens the door; I note that he's sure to lock it behind them after they all pile in. 

“Who the hell just tore out of your driveway like a bat out of hell?” Debbie asks, shrugging out of her raincoat.

“The psychotic paramedic who was in the ambulance cab with us on the way to the hospital. He’s obsessed with Brian.” Gee. I guess I'll just let it all out.

“How’d he find where you live- er, where you are?” Ted asks.

“Hospital records,” I answer simply.

“Jeeezus, Brian, you can’t catch a break, can you?” Ted says ironically. "Everyone wants to get to you for one reason or another- and everyone tracks you down."

I close my eyes a moment. Because he's right.

“Never mind that, sweetie- how do you feel?” Deb asks, putting her hand against Brian's forehead. “It feels like you still have a fever. Justin, could you get the thermometer and some Tylenol?” She leads Brian into the living room. The rest of the group follow her. I get the thermometer and pills, making sure enough time has elapsed since his last dose; I go into the living room to find Brian laid out on the sofa under the throw, Deb seated by his side stroking his sweaty forehead and everyone else standing around. It's obvious to me that he’s sick of everyone touching him- don't get me wrong: he loves touching- but under his own conditions.

Deb takes his temperature, not caring how resistant and reluctant Bri is. “101.5,” Deb says, reading the thermometer. “Better than yesterday, for sure. And usually a temperature goes up in the evening. *And* by the way, you should call the cops on that creep- that paramedic stalker weirdo. Stalking’s illegal.”

“One visit from the guy isn’t stalking, Deb,” Brian says in a tired tone. “And is stalking illegal in Maine? I’m not up on Maine law.”

“Who knows…? But this guy *is* creepy, Brian,” I say quietly.

“Yeah. He's 'creepy',” he agrees. “But he’s gone. And we’ll be heading back to the Pitts in a few days.”

“Not with the bed rest the doctor ordered- and not in this storm, you won’t,” Deb says. “We heard the news on the battery radio we have; the one causeway that leads on and off the island is flooded. It’s closed and possibly will need to be rebuilt if it’s totally washed away. There’s no way out of here, folks. Only emergency medical helicopters are being allowed on and off the island.”

“Fuck,” I mumble. It’s then that I decide to keep the golf club by me all the time- even by the bed. 

Brian holds his hand out to me and I grasp it. “It’ll be fine, Sunshine. You worry too much.”

I don’t think I do after what I’ve witnessed and experienced during this trip; but I stay quiet. 

Deb shakes down the mercury in the thermometer. “You get some rest, Brian.”

“I’m sick of resting,” he bitches. “I fucking slept all day.” He tries to sit up but she gently pushes him back down.

“Then you stay here and I’m going to fix everyone some dinner.” She eyes his partially exposed chest. “Lord, Brian. Look at those bruises- somehow they look even worse than when I first saw them - Justin, Sunshine- make sure he stays warm- then run him a cool bath in a while, okay? Now, as I said, I’ll go fix something to eat.” She pats Brian’s head and goes into the kitchen. I take her place, sitting by Brian; Brian is rolling his eyes and groaning. I grin. Still, neither of us make any mention of why his bruises look worse; it’s because of his raging through the woods the other night after that godawful nightmare about what his mother did to him. 

Michael comes over and sits by me. “Ma sure has you cowed,” he smiles.

“Shut up, Mikey,” Brian responds good-naturedly. I lean over and kiss his cheek, smiling. “She has everybody cowed, Mikey- you know that,” Brian says quietly.

“I’ll see if Debbie needs any help,” Emmett says, having been shockingly quiet lately.

“Hey, Emmett,” Brian says. “Are you okay? You haven’t queened out for awhile. It’s very unlike you to be so subdued.”

“I’m fine, sweetie. Just a little shaken up by the events and circumstances of the past couple days.”

Brian nods. “Justin cries all the time, you get quiet, Deb cooks and dotes… my freakshow family sure is full of weirdos. Well, quit it all of you- except Deb, of course- we need food. Just… just, things are fine,” he insists. “And quit hanging over me all the time. Fuck, I feel like I have a bunch of groupies hovering or something.”

Everyone smiles.

There’s a tapping at the door and I jump. Deb goes over and answers it- it’s just Lindsay. “Deb, be sure to lock the door behind you, okay?” I call out.

“Hey, Brian!” Linds says as she enters the room. “I’d have been here sooner but I helped Mel with Gus- he was being fussy.”

“Linds,” he says, suddenly concerned. “Is Gus alright? He’s not sick, is he?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just being a typical almost 3 year old. How’re you doing?”

“Keep me posted on Sonny Boy, okay?”

“Of course,” Lindsay smiles warmly at him. She can't hide the worry in her face, though. "Brian, how are you doing?" She repeats.

“I’m fine, Linds,” he sighs. 

He bolsters himself; "I want everyone now to agree not to ask me that question again tonight. And only one person a day can ask me that question from now on. And since I'm living here with Sunshine, I'm sure he'll be the one to beat you all to the punch. So shut up.”

“Fuck, you’re a grump tonight!” I tell him. Although I know it’s because he’s feeling crowded and sick- and now he’s really worried about his son's safety and health. And I *know* Brian's blaming himself for *all* of it. 

“I earned that right after being doted on the past few days,” he huffs. “Really- stop hovering, you wretches! Get away from me!”

Everyone snickers but they finally take their cue to give him some room and wander off to look at the rest of the cabin or see if Deb needs help in the kitchen.

“You drove most everyone off except me,” I grin.

“Thank God,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

I laugh a little and lay down next to him on the sofa. “Do you want me to stay?"

"Yeah."

I get all warm inside. "Do you want me to keep you from sleeping?” I whisper.

“Yeah," he repeats quietly. "I don’t want to put on a show for everyone here were another nightmare to hit me. Although, it almost seems like everyone knows what’s going with me. At least on some level. Which sucks.”

Brian likes his privacy and I sympathize. “Well, I don’t think that’s the case with *every*one- but at least everyone seems to be keeping their mouths closed about it.”

“That’s even worse- that means they’re talking about it behind my back.”

“Fuck’em. You don’t care what they think about you anyway.” Although I know that’s not entirely true. He likes his tough reputation. All this happening the past days has put a crack in that. Not irreparable in my opinion, but it’s bugging him.

“Hmm,” he replies non-committally.

\---------------------------------

POV EMMETT

I wander around the cabin for awhile, waiting for dinner and keeping out of Brian’s way- he hates all this attention he’s getting but he typically grits his teeth and bears it, knowing we mean well. Fuck, what that poor man’s been through since coming to Maine shocks me. If he knew I used the phrase ‘poor man’ to describe him, he’d kill me. I chuckle to myself about that.

I glance across the room at Brian laid out with Justin curled around him on the sofa and I smile. They’ve come a loooooong way since they first started seeing each other regularly. Justin’s more mature- actually, they both are. And they stuck it out together- that can be rare, especially given the trials they’ve faced.

Teddy and me are doing okay; I love him dearly, I’m just starting to wonder if we should have kept it as just friends. The raw passion isn’t there—nothing like what I see between Brian and Justin by a long shot, that’s for sure. But maybe Justin and Bri are just naturally passionate people. Brian sure as fuck is- the Stud of Liberty Avenue. And I suspect Justin is too- in a different, quieter way. But he’s kept Brian happy all these years, despite Brian himself, so he must be doing just fine in the passion department. 

Sunshine challenges Brian, which someone like Brian desperately needs- he needs somebody like that or he gets bored. 

Teddy’s not terribly challenging, but he’s got a good heart.

I’m a passionate person, which is one reason why I can relate to Brian and Justin so well, even if Brian and I are snarking at each other and Sunshine and I are just talking shop. I may not be a match, but I ain’t boring.

Michael and Ben seem to me to be an unusual couple- opposites, really. Michael's rather childlike or immature with his comics and all, whereas Ben seems incredibly mature as a professor and intellectual. Michael’s emotional; Ben’s more serene. But maybe that’s why they say opposites attract.

Visually speaking, Brian and Justin are opposites in many, many ways. That’s why they look so hot together; one tall, tan and lean, the other short, porcelain skinned and with a bubble butt. Not of course to mention their hair colors. They certainly make a strikingly handsome couple on the dance floor and off.

Justin and Ethan didn’t click to me. Not only because I found Ethan to be an arrogant little self-involved, humorless prick (I didn’t like him much!)- but Justin became so serious all the time while he was with him. No Sunshine smile, no humor to speak of. It was like the elitist, artsy crowd Ethan and he hung out with sucked it out of him. Everyone in that crowd seemed to look down their noses at everyone- in other words, they were snobs; and that’s just not how Justin is.

It was like when Michael and Ben started to hang out with ‘breeder wannabe’s’ as Brian called them. They became snobbish about the rest of us. Thank goodness that phase is over- for the most part. But at that time, Michael became particularly rude to Brian just because Brian didn’t have any interest in their nesting ideals. Which in a way is funny, because Brian and Justin have developed their own nesting ideal- one I can get on board with, actually. They’ve maintained their individuality while at the same time they’ve become closer than all the other couples I know, quite frankly- breeder or gay.

Teddy and I have maintained our individuality to a certain extent- but it feels different to me than what I observe with Brian and Justin. Maybe it’s that they have that passion going for them that I mentioned.

What’s also fun to see is how Brian and Justin handle each other. It’s like they read each other’s minds; they keep each other in check when necessary but they don’t humiliate the other; sure they snark- but it’s a sport to them. Fun. It wasn’t always that way with them, of course; back when Brian was rougher around the edges, he’d say anything. He still does- but he’s a warmer person now; for most people, this is hard to see and Teddy thinks I’m crazy (he does bear the brunt of a lot of Brian’s snark, I admit)—but I’ve known Brian a long time and I see it. And I definitely see it when he’s with Sunshine- in a group or alone as a couple. 

Plus, Sunshine isn’t as snarky- he can be, but I think his upbringing discouraged it- but he’ll still call Brian on his shit in no time if he thinks Brian’s being too rude or blunt. Not that Brian necessarily tempers himself because of that (ha ha- like he would)- but Justin isn’t afraid to speak up. A lot of people are afraid of Brian because he’s a quick wit and he always has a ready comeback if you protest what he says- although not as much any more. But again, Justin has no qualms on calling Brian on his shit. And I believe that Brian really respects that, always loving a challenge.

I think Brian respects that about me, too- he knows I won’t back down. We have a pretty good-natured relationship though, and we both know that it’s all just verbal sparring when we go at each other and that we’re always friends underneath it all. And I’m good friends with Sunshine as well- it just plays out differently. It’s not based on a battle of wits, it’s more like a typical friendship.

As I watch them right now, it’s amazing how gentle and affectionate they are with each other- I mean, they always are, but Justin’s so cautious because Brian’s body is hurting *so* bad and while Sunshine doesn’t treat him with kid gloves, he seems ever-aware of Brian’s condition. They communicate with a lot of touching, that’s for sure- always have, maybe because that’s how Brian has always communicated and Justin naturally fell into it after awhile. Nowadays they are constantly caressing, running their fingers through the other’s hair, holding each other’s hands, pressing against each other even if it’s just their thighs touching under the table. If I were Teddy, I'd say it was disgusting. But I'm not Teddy- and I think it's the most beautiful thing ever.

Plus, in the last few years, I’ve started to notice the smoldering looks the two gorgeous boys exchange. I think early on, Brian thought such exchanges were too 'lesbionic', as he calls it, and Sunshine was a little inexperienced and a little bit shy to look at Brian in that way. Although Justin was bolder with Brian than most- a persistent one, that blondie. But the way they look at each other now is very different- very sensual- erotically sexual usually- sometimes it’s like they’re in their own world, a world that exists only between their eyes and no one from the outside can reach them.

I think Gus has shown us all a side of Brian that only Justin really has gotten to see for awhile. Brian’s definitely become much more involved with Gus, and watching Brian with his son is completely endearing- and watching Sunshine watch Brian with his son is equally touching. 

Justin is like a father to Gus, too, of course- after all, he was there the night the child was born. That was one helluva fateful night; Brian and Justin started their journey together, soon to become the royal couple of Liberty Avenue (as much as Brian hated and hates that); and of course, Gus was born… I wonder if Gus hadn’t been born that night if things would have turned out differently. Hm. Well, no use wondering- he *was* born that night.

Mel is drifting farther and farther away from the group, I’ve noticed- unlike Lindsay who is in the thick of things, however that works. It might be the relationship- or lack thereof- between Mel and Brian. I get the sense she resents Brian’s rapport with Lindsay- Brian and Lindsay have been good friends for a long time, and like Justin with Brian, Lindsay calls him on his shit. He quietly adores her and she adores him, and Mel seems to resent him for that. But, hell, Brian and Linds have been long time friends and share a son together, so in my opinion, Mel should have known what she was getting into when she hooked up with her wife. But I’ve actually been taken aback at how completely rude and unthoughtful Mel is towards Brian. Especially around Gus, which is terribly inappropriate in my opinion- but even around Linds, it’s discourteous to jab at him so heartlessly; I mean, as I said, Linds is one of his best friends- Mel’s basically putting Lindsay down when she puts Brian down. 

Not that Brian can’t take it and dish it back, but it always seems like Mel starts it. I dunno- maybe I’m biased since I really don’t know Mel that well. However, I’ve noticed that Mel’s verbal jabs are meant to hurt; I dislike mean people on principle. It’s not like Brian’s teasing which is always just a little bit tongue in cheek. In his case, often literally. 

I remember going to him at his office to plead with him to help Teddy get out of hot water because of his porn site; even then I explained to Brian that we all know deep down he loves us. And I suspect he would have helped Teddy even if I hadn’t basically begged- I just wanted to give him that last push. And Brian did help him. Justin later told me that he didn’t out and out tell Teddy he was responsible (typical)- and that he was actually a real shit to him after Teddy tried to thank him; but the final result was Teddy was free. And even if Brian was going through a weird little phase with that fucker Stockwell, he was still Brian and ultimately did the right thing all around- maybe for stranger than most reasons, but ultimately, I knew he would do the right thing. Sunshine helped with that.

Deb is calling us for dinner. I watch Justin help Brian up and think again how far they’ve come.


	46. Chapter 46

  
Author's notes: Um.. sorry for the delay! Feedback loved- and I've been working on all my stories! Thanks for your patience! Love you all!!!   


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POV BRIAN /*/**/*/*/

 

The next morning I wake up alone in the bed and I look around for Justin. Then I see him as he pads into the room in a robe with a tray laden with fruit and toast; he has that beautiful sunshine grin on his face. 

I'm now officially a lesbian. 

But wow- I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in bed- at least with real food and not just protein. And certainly never presented by a hot, disheveled blond in a terry cloth robe. I struggle to sit up against the head board, trying desperately to keep any semblance that I feel pain from my face. “To what do I owe this, Sunshine?” 

His smile wanes a little when he sees the pain I'm in- but then his grin broadens. “You’ve just been through hell and back and I thought a little treat might be nice.” He puts the tray at the foot of the bed, climbs under the covers next to me and pulls the tray up between us. 

“Hm. I’m getting the feeling you like me or something, Sunshine.” 

He laughs. “What tipped you off, dim bulb?” He brings a strawberry up to my lips and I take a bite. I love strawberries; they're a very sexy food to boot. He takes the uneaten half and pops it into his mouth, having previously removed all the leaves. “So, snookums, how do you feel this morning?” He asks after he swallows. 

I ignore the ‘snookums’, not taking the bait this morning. “Sore.” 

He puts his hand on my forehead. “Still a little warm, but you look better— I mean, you look less tired.” He reaches for the thermometer on the nightstand. “Here, let’s take your temp again.” He puts it under my tongue and I wait patiently till he pulls it out and reads it- I feel like a little kid, but I can’t see the clock to time how long the thing’s under my tongue and Sunshine can. While he reads it, I take another strawberry and eat it. “100. Better but not perfect quite yet,” he tells me. 

“Well, we’re making progress, I guess,” I say, taking a piece of kiwi from the tray. “How’re you?” 

“A little tired,” he admits. 

“You didn’t fucking stay up all night watching me sleep again, did you, you fucker?” 

“Only part of the night. Brian, your nightmares are terrifying. I feel compelled to.” 

“Well, ‘uncompel’ yourself. I mean it,” I say sternly. “Okay?” 

“I’ll try. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep because I’m thinking about them.” 

I lean over and kiss him. “Please try, Sunshine.” I hover within an inch or two from his face and look into his beautiful eyes. “Please try,” I repeat. A major clap of thunder makes us both jump. “OW FUCK!” I exclaim right in his face. 

I see a flash of panic crossing his features. “Did you jar your ribs?” He asks, concerned. 

I nod, gasping and pulling back to lay against the headboard to recover. I really clocked the shit out of myself running through the woods the other night. I can’t help but cringe as I move and Justin lifts the tray from between us, putting it on the nightstand. He scoots closer to me and softly runs a soothing cool hand up my bruised, heated bare torso. 

“Fuck, Brian. I hate seeing you in so much pain. I hate this.” 

“No more than I do. At least I didn’t thrash around all night in a nightmare,” I mutter ruefully. 

“Yeah,” he responds simply, continuing to trace his hand gently along my ribs. “Me doing this doesn’t hurt you, does it?” 

“No- just keep your touch really light,” I whisper, still recovering from that jolt. “So, I wonder what predicaments I can get us into today and what injuries I can inflict on myself,” I sigh with irony. 

Justin snorts. “I think you’ve met your quota, Brian.” 

“Ha. You know me- ‘never enough’. What time is it?” I ask, changing the subject. 

“About 8:30.” 

“The merry little gang should be showing up any time then. Fuck.” 

He smiles. “They mean well, Brian.” 

“Fuck, I know. But the only one of two I feel like seeing right now who isn't here is the one I can’t.” 

“Me is one of the two," he whispers with a small, 'in-love' (gag) smile... "And the second is Gus.” 

I nod slightly. 

Justin leans in close and kisses my chest carefully. “Soon you will. Linds told me last night that he’s been asking about you constantly. He’s worried.” 

“Yeah, and I hate that. He’s not even three and he’s worrying about me. Stupid fever,” I add petulantly. 

Justin reaches over and picks up a strawberry and holds it in front of my mouth. 

“Are you trying to shut me up by feeding me?” 

“Nah. I’m just trying to keep your strength up.” 

After I accept the berry, I glance over by the nightstand. “Is that a golf club, Justin?” There’s a club propped up by the nightstand near the food tray. 

He looks at me with a slightly guilty expression- although I don’t know why he'd feel guilty. “Yeah. That paramedic 'Bill' guy showing up here last night freaked m out.” 

“Is that another reason you didn’t sleep much?” 

Justin nods, looking down. “I kept hearing noises that flipped me out,” he admits. "I kept thinking of all these scenarios in which he'd hurt you even more than you are… or worse." 

I kiss him lightly. “Yeah- well, it was certainly a shock to find him at the door. But I'll be fine, and so will you. We’ll just keep the doors locked from now on, okay? I doubt he’ll be back.” 

“He said something about 'seeing you again', Brian.” 

“I know. Don’t worry, though." 

"Plus,” Sunshine adds, “It’s not like this cabin is Fort Knox. I mean, I’m no robber or stalker, but I could easily get in here- even with all the doors and windows locked.” 

I think about it and acknowledge what he’s saying is true. “He’d have to break a window, though. We’d know he was here.” 

“No- those locks on the doors are easily jimmied- I mean, they only lock the knobs and they’re also ancient, built with the house. I don’t think they’d hold anyone out if they were determined. Also, there’s that window in the front door that Craig broke.” 

I sigh. “Jus, we don’t need one more thing to worry about- we can ask Ben and Mikey to move into another bedroom here in the Narrows if you feel safer with numbers and with people who can actually move.” 

“Brian, I feel safe with you- really. But the guy *wants* you.” 

“Well, do you want to call Ben and Mikey then? Mikey’s not much of a threatening figure, but Ben is pretty intimidating.” I feel badly that I obviously don’t make Sunshine feel safe at the moment- but in my condition, I can’t blame him. 

“Let me think about it awhile, okay? I don’t want them underfoot around here, but if that guy’s as scary as he seemed, I want you safe.” 

 


	47. Chapter 47

  
Author's notes:

Sorry so long in coming!

A little trouble for the boys-- and they thought they'd met their quota! (Trouble? What else is new?) :)

Reviewers and reviews loved- thanks to all who have reviewed and might review!!!!   


* * *

  
  
POV BRIAN XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx  
  
There’s a sudden knock at the back door and Justin jumps about 5 feet. He grabs the golf club and goes to see who it is. I’m pretty sure it’s the gang- but Sunshine’s getting paranoid.   
  
Sure enough, soon I hear chatter and Deb bellowing something about whether Sunshine's taken up golf and whether we've had breakfast yet. I groan. Justin walks back in the bedroom with a smile of relief on his face. “The gang,” he says simply.  
  
“I can tell from here,” I state wryly.   
  
He ignores me. “Let me get you some clothes,” he says.  
  
I sigh. “My robe is fine for now.”  
  
“Is it warm enough?”  
  
“If not, I’ll put more on.” He hands me my robe and I stand- my feet are incredibly sore and I let out a grunt when my feet hit the floor.  
  
“Careful, you clod!” He exclaims in concern.  
  
“I’m fine, Justin.” I stand painfully slowly and put on my robe. “Don’t hover,” I admonish.  
  
He hangs back, biting his lower lip and watching me worriedly. Ass.  
  
Deb then shows up at the bedroom door. “Brian! How do you feel this morning?” She asks loudly, coming over to me and holding me up by the elbow.  
  
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine, Deb. I can get around on my own.”  
  
She backs off a little. “Have you two eaten?” She asks again, a little less brashly.  
  
“We started to. Didn’t get far,” Justin answers, his concerned eyes still watching my every move.  
  
“Well, none of us have eaten so I’ll go whip something up for everyone.” She leaves and Justin and I exchange glances.  
  
“She’s used to getting up at 5 to get to the diner, Brian. She has a lot more energy in the mornings than we do.”  
  
“I’ve noticed,” I mumble. "C’mere, Sunshine. I actually may need to lean on you a little to get around until I limber up a little. Sleeping stiffened me- and not in a positive, life affirming way.”

  
He comes over and I take his elbow for a little support. Slowly and awkwardly, we walk out (I hobble, essentially) to where everyone is. I brace myself for an onslaught of attention.  
  
We make it to the living room where everyone is gathered and sure enough, I’m bombarded with questions about how I am and how do I feel, is my fever down, etc. etc.  
  
I grimace and Justin chuckles. “Slow down, guys- Brian just woke up. And he’s a bear until he's had some coffee.”  
  
I roll my eyes. Justin leads me to the sofa and gratefully I sit down. He then goes and gets me some coffee. Everyone is more hushed now, backing off. Sunshine: my own personal guard dog.  
  
After I’m nearly done my cup, I tell everyone my fever’s down but not normal and otherwise, basically: I hurt. I figure I may as well answer everyone at once instead of answering a million of the same questions over and over. Justin is snickering by my side, knowing that’s what I’m doing.

  
“Great, Brian! I mean it sucks that you hurt so bad, but it's wonderful that the fever's down!” Mikey exclaims.“Yeah, Brian, great!” A chorus of voices answer.  


I sigh. "Thanks, 'fam'," I say simply. I look around; they look at me expectantly like there’s more. I wave at them dismissing their attention. “Go on, Mouseketeers, speak amongst yourselves.”  
  
There are chuckles around the room and conversations start up again. Justin is all out laughing. “You suddenly have an attitude this morning!”  
  
“Well, I haven’t even fully woken up- I can’t deal with being their entertainment at the moment.”  
  
“Well, you handled that like an expert.” Sunshine puts his arm around my back and gently rubs my neck. “Fuck, Brian- you are so tense…”  
  
“Um. Duh.”  
  
“Could you handle a gentle back rub?” He offers.  
  
I smile at him. “That’d be nice, actually. Key word is ‘gentle’, though. My back is connected to my front, you know- which isn’t very healthy at the moment.”

  
“Of course. Here, or in the bedroom?”  
  
“Fuck it, just do it here- walking back to the bedroom seems like a huge task right now.”  
  
Justin helps me move sideways on the sofa so my back is facing him and I'm facing the sofa arm. Slowly he begins to knead my sore muscles- I think they’re so sore because I’ve had to use my back muscles to keep my torso from moving too much which hurts my ribs. His gentle hands feel wonderful and I lean carefully into his touch. I want his skin to touch mine so I remove the top portion of my robe, keeping my nether regions covered (some people might say, ‘for once’. Maybe *most* people.)  
  
Still, as soon as I drop my robe from my shoulders, exposing my back, I notice some conversations seem to stop abruptly and I smirk. Whatever the fuck. For being a bunch of fags, some of the ‘fam’ seem to shock awfully easily- it’s just my BACK, people! Justin luckily isn’t one of the shocked and he's unfazed by my action. “That feels good,” I whisper to him.

“I'm glad,” he answers quietly. “Not too much pressure?”  
  
“Nah.”  
  
Soon Deb comes in from the kitchen to join us while whatever she’s making for breakfast is cooking.  
  
Suddenly, we’re all shocked and startled by breaking glass in the kitchen. What the fuck?! Justin starts to get up and I hiss at him to stay put. Ben gets up and tentatively walks into the kitchen, grabbing a fire stoker as a weapon on the way. Then there’s a screech of tires followed by a breathless and eerie quiet. Ben, what was that?” I finally call out, suspecting the worst: Bill.

  
“Someone threw a fucking brick through the kitchen window!” He emerges from the kitchen carrying a brick. “Who the fuck would do that? Fag haters?” He   
asks.  
  
“Give it to me, please,” I say quietly. He comes over and hands me the brick. There’s a note tied to it. I pull my robe fully on and shift so I’m resting against the sofa back again. I yank the note off, trying to keep Justin from looking over my shoulder to read it. My jaw drops. It's a drawing of a bloody knife and one word, ‘Blondie,’ is written beneath it.   
  
“Fuck,” I mutter.  
  
“Brian, what is it?” Emmett asks.  
  
I glance over at Sunshine- he has his suspicions, I can tell. “Did he threaten you, Brian?” He whispers. "Did Bill threaten you?"  
  
“Not exactly,” I whisper back. My blood has run cold and I get up painfully. I walk over to the phone which thankfully is working again, I and dial 911.  
  
“Brian, what IS it?” Deb demands. I hold up a finger to indicate to her to wait a fucking minute.  
  
While the note's not signed, it must be from Bill- he called Sunshine ‘Blondie’ last night- in a sickeningly vicious manner.  
  
“Brian!” A bunch of demanding voices insist behind me.  
  
“Wait a damned minute!” I yell, just as the operator comes on. I tell her what’s happened with this fucker and she tells me a cop will be sent out. She warns that due to the weather and road conditions, it may take a little while. I tell her to have them come as fast as possible. Then I hang up, my entire being now operating on pure adrenaline and fear.  
  
Justin comes up to me and takes the note from my hand before I can pull it away. He looks at it and drops to his knees on the hardwood floor in front   
of me. I slowly, gingerly lower myself so I can hold him. He’s shaking like a leaf.  
  
Ben comes over and whispers, “What is it, Brian?” Seeing that Justin is clearly in no position to function or answer questions.  
  
I take the note from Justin’s quaking fingers and give it to Ben, unable to speak myself. I just hold Justin right there on the hard floor in front of the fireplace- the fire is warm, but my blood is running cold.  
  
The room is silent, watching what’s happening with Justin and me; Ben thankfully doesn’t tell them what the note says, he just hands it around. Emmett shrieks and holds his hand to his mouth when he sees it; Deb quietly says, “Oh, my God.” Everyone else seems to go into silent shock.  
  
After a few minutes, Justin is still shivering in my firm hold- I ignore any pain I’m feeling at the moment. Justin is clinging tightly to me, quietly crying. “Brian,” Deb whispers. “Is this from that paramedic?”  
  
I nod, "That's the only one I can think of," I whisper. I continually kiss Sunshine wherever I can reach. “Sunshine,” I finally say quietly, close to   
his ear, “Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it.” His crying and shaking getting more intense, he seems to be trying to merge into my body.  
  
"See? He wants you! He wants me gone so he can have you! What if he had threatened you? What if he went further last night or even just now and hurt you???" Justin sobs.  
  
“He didn't go further, and did you hear me? Justin, I won’t let anything happen to you.” I vaguely notice the others in the room are quietly muttering amongst themselves. I hold Justin as close as possible and pull him up off the floor. “Could you guys stick around?” I ask. They're the last people I want around right now, but there's safety in numbers; and admittedly, they love us.  
  
“Of course! We’ll guard the place and wait for the cops,” Deb answers immediately. Everyone seems to know not to approach us right now, thank fuck. Justin’s a wreck, and justifiably so; I lead him back to the bedroom so he can have some privacy- so *we* can. I don’t think he wants to be left alone at the moment. I let the rest of the group clean up whatever needs cleaning. I vaguely notice that something is burning- presumably, Deb’s breakfast.  
  
I gently lay Justin on our bed and he curls into a fetal position and I wrap myself around him, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back, whispering words of reassurance in his hair. Both of us are shaking now- the import of the letter I knew right away, but I had to care for Justin first. Now my reaction is kicking in and I’m terrified- petrified… Still, I hold him fast and keep whispering in his ear, trying desperately to keep from sobbing myself.  
  
I don’t know how long we’re like that but neither of us want to move from the human ball we’ve created holding each other; but eventually there’s a soft knock on the door and Ben comes in. “Brian, the cops are here- you know the details best.”  
  
Well, Justin does, actually, but I won’t have him have to recount everything. “Ben, I don’t think Justin should be alone right now- will you stay with him while I talk to them?”  
  
“Of course, Brian.”  
  
I eventually get up- getting up is difficult as Justin keeps clinging to me and yelling ‘no! Stay!’  
  
“Justin- Ben’s going to stay with you. You won’t be alone,” I assure him.  
  
“NO! I want you!” He yells.  
  
“Sunshine, I have to tell the police what’s happening. I won’t be long, okay? And everyone else is in the living room still- you have a house full of people. Nothing’s going to happen.” What worries me but I don’t tell him is that Fuckhead Bill was here at 9AM- broad daylight, albeit gloomy from the storm- and that he threw that brick through the window while there was a house full of people. This family is loud enough that he would’ve heard the chatter from outside even through the storm’s noise. “Shh… Sunshine, let go- I won’t be long.”  
  
"NO! Brian, I need YOU! STAY!!"  
  
I sigh. "Sunshine, please… really, I won't be long. I have to go so the cops have the information they need to catch this fucker. But Ben's going to be in here with you- face it, Jus, he could kick someone's ass much better than I could- even if I didn't have a fever, broken ribs and a torso full of bruises… Ben's the hunk you want to cover your back." I glance at Ben and he smiles shyly and scratches the side of his nose as he looks down, turning red. I half expect him to start drawing circles on the floor with the toe of his shoe like a modest little school girl being flattered by a boy she likes. If it weren't for the gravity of the situation, I'd be cracking up at his embarrassed, 'aw shucks' reaction to my comments.  
  
I finally extricate myself from Justin much to his heartrending protests. “Ben,” I plead, “Hold him, rub his back or lay with him- just don’t let him feel alone.”  
  
“Of course, Brian.” He looks down at Justin’s pitiful curled up body, wracked with sobs.  
  
“I want *you* Brian! Not Ben!” He keeps repeating. I hurry out to get this over with.  
  
I tell the cops about my fever and the ambulance ride where this freak kept hitting on me—they raise their eyebrows at that.  
  
“You’re gay?”  
  
Fuck! “Yes, is that a problem?”  
  
“No- we’re just clarifying.”  
  
And, thankfully, the rest of my retelling of what happened doesn't faze them; the issues about Justin and I being gay doesn't seem to affect their assessment of what I'm saying or their questions.  
  
When I get to the part about Bill showing up at our cabin that night with the soup, one of the officers asks if we still have the soup.  
  
“Um. Sure.” I go to the kitchen trash and pull it out- thankfully we hadn’t taken the trash to the dumpsters. I hand it to the cop who asked. I go on with my retelling of the story; “After I refused to take this Bill-fucker's soup, he put it on the counter and he continued to come on to me. He didn’t even acknowledge Justin until Justin told him to leave; then he got in Justin’s face, yelling that he wasn’t there to see Jus- he called Justin ‘blondie’- and then I got in the guy’s face making it clear in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t talk like that to Justin, that he had to leave- and immediately.  
  
"We told him he was trespassing, that we’d call the police if he didn’t leave- and he still wouldn’t. He said it wasn’t trespassing if we let him in- Jus pointed out that he’d merely opened the door and 'Bill' had come in on his own. We asked him how the hell he knew where we lived and he said he had gotten the address from my hospital forms. That smacked of illegality to me, but what do I know? There are windstorms that blow over people's trash, there are public city dumpsters- in other words, there are many ways to get someone's address.  
  
"Anyway, when he still wouldn’t leave when I told him what he'd done WAS probably illegal, he and I were having a face off; Justin went and got a golf club. Justin came into the kitchen and threatened him. Jus told him to leave. Justin was terrified I could tell and I tried to stay between him and this cretin. Justin was extremely brave despite his fear and the guy seemed to finally take note of the club and backed off- then he told me ‘see ya’ and left.  
  
“Ever since it happened, ever since last night, Justin has been very worried about this loser Bill coming back and hurting me or us. Jus didn’t like the paramedic from the start, basically. I was somewhat concerned, but didn’t tell Justin because we’ve been through a lot lately and if I were to show that I was worried, he'd be even more scared. And I wasn't about to add yet another thing for him to worry over; it was counterproductive. But I have to admit, I've been a little worried.  
  
“Then, of course, the other shoe fell and that's when I called for you; this morning, Justin, me and our makeshift family were all in the other room talking while breakfast was cooking- and our group is loud- even with the storm, he would have known there was a group inside and not just Justin and me- still, suddenly the brick came through the window; right then, in broad daylight. I read the note first, which I gave you- and immediately I called 911. Justin and I are terrified. I mean, as I said, this psycho threw the brick in broad daylight- around 9AM- and while there was a group here. Frankly, I’m scared of what he might do to Justin.”  
  
“Understandable, sir. How are you sure it’s this one man?”  
  
“He’d called Justin ‘blondie’, he’s the only possibility, really. He’d shown up here the night before, he never stopped trying to pick me up, he had said ‘see ya’ to me, and he clearly hated Justin. I don’t know- maybe there are prints on that brick he threw, although a couple of us touched it.”  
  
“And his name is Bill and he’s a paramedic at the hospital in Bar Harbor,” one of the two says.  
  
“That’s correct.”  
  
“We’ll look into it, sir. Would you recognize him if you saw him?”  
  
“Fuck yeah! His face is burned in my memory now!”  
  
“May we speak with your partner… Justin, was it?”  
  
“Justin, yes. He’s pretty shaken up right now. I don’t think you’ll get much information at the moment.”  
  
One of the cops nods and hands me his card. “Call me if anything else occurs to you or Justin. Thank you- and keep everything locked up; in fact   
you might want to get sturdier locks on these doors. These are pretty old. And I know it’s a summer home, but bars on the windows or an alarm might be   
a good idea; however an alarm right now might not be the most helpful since it takes a police car so long to get to this part of the island in this weather.”  
  
I nod. “Okay. We’ll at least get a locksmith out today if possible. Do you recommend any particular company?”  
  
”I can’t do that sir, but the smiths in the phonebook are all reputable.”  
  
“I just don’t want this freak’s buddy coming out and installing new locks and then giving ‘Bill’ a copy of the keys.”  
  
“That is highly unlikely sir.”  
  
I sigh. “Anything else, officers?” I have to get back to Justin- I can hear him crying from here.  
  
“Not at the moment. It’s good we can narrow it down to the paramedics.”  
  
“Hang on- don’t leave yet!” I urge, getting an idea. “And you can come all the way in if you’re getting cold in that storm.” I dunno why I didn't offer already! That's completely unlike me!  
  
I stand aside and they come in; I close the door. I notice out of the corner of my eye that the whole gang’s been watching and listening. Deb comes in and offers the policemen coffee. I run back into the bedroom. “Jus? Sunshine?” Ben’s rubbing his back and Justin’s in a fetal position facing away from him, sobbing.  
  
“Brian! Are you done?” He asks anxiously, turning around quickly.  
  
“Um. Justin, I have something to ask you that I wouldn’t unless I thought it would help…” I go sit by him and he looks at me, his face so puffy and red he’s hardly recognizable.  
  
“What?” He asks, a little calmer now, apparently because I’m back and near.  
  
“Can you do a sketch of the fucker? I could give that to the cops and I think it will really help. I mean, to get the guy immediately apprehended. Who knows how many ‘Bills’ there are working as paramedics. They also wanted to speak to you, but I said you weren’t ready at the moment.”  
  
“Anything to catch the fucker. I'll do a sketch-- and I’ll speak to them,” he sniffles.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
"Yeah, I’ll just sketch while they ask questions. If you’ll be there.”   
  
Fuck, he’s brave.  
  
“Of course!” I hand him a sketchpad and pencil from the nightstand and he gets up. He follows me out.  
  
The cops are thrilled that they’ll have a picture to go by. Justin’s story is more or less my own- I think I got the order of a few things wrong, but   
we both hit the main points. While Justin tells the story, he sits at the table and sketches out the likeness of the asshole. We all watch as he creates it.  
  
When he’s done, the cops ask me if that’s my memory of how Bill looks and I say definitely. And it is.  
  
Finally, they leave, sketch in hand, each having had two cups of coffee. I’m surprised Deb didn’t get them to have some food, too. Must be too burnt. Ben has come out of the bedroom and rejoined the group. I pull Justin into a hug and he again clings to me, but he’s not shaking or sobbing so much anymore.   
  
“Justin, I am so proud of you!” I whisper to him.  
  
“The sketch was a brilliant idea, Brian. With that sketch, it will help them find him more quickly.” Making that drawing seems to have given Justin a sense of control and he's calmed somewhat. “Did they take the note?”  
  
“And the fucking brick.”  
  
At this point Ben comes in and I’ve never liked the guy more. He’s so calm in times of crisis. People say that of me, but still I’m grateful for his presence. “Better, Justin?” he asks gently.  
  
“Yeah, Ben. Thanks for sitting with me.”  
  
“Well, of course- anything for you two. I’m going to patch up this hole in the window with a board or something. You guys going to be okay?”  
  
I pull him into a hug. “Thanks,” I whisper.  
  
The gang has come in, tentative about approaching the three of us since we’ve been through this ordeal- yes, including Ben. Sitting with Justin so he wasn’t alone helped; and Ben in particular, who’s so muscled and serene, probably helped even more than any of the others would have.  
  
“It’s okay guys, the cops have come and gone,” I say, stupidly might I add- they’ve been watching this whole drama unfold from the dining room.  
  
Deb comes up to Sunshine. “You were very brave Justin- this must be terrifying.”  
  
“I feel better having given them a sketch. And having Brian around- the sketch was his idea. And thanks for letting me borrow Ben, Michael.”  
  
I chuckle.  
  
"Uh huh." Michael replies flatly. "Don't get used to it!"  
  
"Michael!!" I admonish; he's still getting over that 'Sunshine made Ma cry' thing, I guess. He may as well have sneered the word 'wimp' at Justin. Luckily, if Sunshine notices, he both doesn’t let on that he does nor does he seem to care. He's made his peace with Deb; that's what matters.  
  
Ben goes to Justin and gives him a brief hug; then, surprising me, he comes and gives me a longer hug; "sorry 'bout everything, including Michael…" he whispers in my ear as he holds me, "do you want us to stay?" He asks more loudly, so all can hear.  
  
"Errrr…" I mumble, still a bit taken aback by his apology for Michael. "I'm not sure yet, is that okay?"  
  
"Of COURSE, Brian!" Mikey practically gushes. Oh good grief!  
  
I think a moment. "Actually, I guess we’re safer as a group, so do you guys mind hanging out here for the day?” I ask.  
  
“Sure, Bri,” Linds assures me- everyone else echoes her sentiments. “Brian, can I call Mel to tell her what’s going on? And we may have to have her come   
down with Gus…”  
  
“Linds, I’m still contagious!” And boy, I suddenly feel very woozy after all this and my body is killing me after all the squeezing it took from   
Sunshine, and all my moving around.  
  
“Brian, it should be okay. Your fever's only 100—“  
  
“No. Absolutely not. If one of you guys wants to go up there to stay with Mel and Gus, that’s fine—she’s in no danger—“  
  
"Brian,” Justin interrupts softly. “What if that sick fuck chooses to target Gus to get to you?”  
  
I blanch. Fuck! “Could we send her to a more secure place with one of us? I don’t know- I just don’t want Gus sick with what I had!”  
  
“Sick is better than…” Deb’s voice trails off.  
  
“Okay, listen, go pick her up. I’ll just stay in our bedroom all day with the door closed. Hopefully that’ll work to keep him away from the bug I had,” I sigh.  
  
“Brian, y'know- your immune system was fucked up. He’s a healthy kid,” Justin reminds me. “And I’ll stay with you in the bedroom so you aren’t bored to tears. Besides I feel safe with you.”  
  
I smirk a little at that. “Linds, call her and tell her what’s going on and tell her to come down here. Tell her to bring whatever meds for Sonny Boy that might help stave off anything- if no meds, tell her to bring items like vitamin C, zinc, whatever.”  
  
This Bill guy is making life a living hell and I want him to pay. Suddenly the phone rings and I rush over. “What?”  
  
\--“Mr. Kinney?”  
  
“Speaking?”  
  
\--“This is Officer Getty. I was one of the officers at your house today.”  
  
“You’re calling awfully quickly- after all, you just left.”  
  
\--“I’m calling from the hospital. We have this Bill character in custody thanks to that sketch- there are about 6 Bills here.”  
  
I grin. “You have him? And he’s handcuffed and secured so he can’t get away, right?”  
  
\--I almost hear him snort- but hey, I'm not messing around here! “Yes, sir. Of course.”  
  
“Has he confessed to anything?”  
  
\--"We have to take him to the station to interrogate him. He was acting rather cagey, I’ll tell you that much,” the Officer admits.  
  
“How soon do you think you’ll know for sure he was the one?”  
  
\--"Sir, I can’t determine that- it varies.”  
  
Of course. I know that.  
  
I suddenly realize I’m surrounded by everyone and they’re hanging on my every word. “I’d like to know for sure before we really feel at ease. Please keep us posted.” 'Kinney, why for fuck’s sake?' I ask myself. 'Who else would it be but Bill?'  
  
\--“I understand, Sir. We’ll get him to the station right away and let you know what we find out. He has already told us that he was at your house last night- the hospital will be reprimanding him for his use of hospital records to obtain your address."  
  
“Okay.” I hang up.  
  
“Well?” Everyone asks at once.  
  
“Well, they have Bill based on the sketch- apparently there are like 5 other Bills that they would have had to weed through. He said that the man they arrested was acting ‘cagey’.”  
  
“So, Gus is safe, and so is Justin!” Emmett exclaims.  
  
“Having not seen who the guy was who threw the brick, while it’s a high probability that it was Bill- I really don’t want to put either Gus or Justin in any danger if it wasn’t that creep. The cops are going to take him to the station and interrogate him to see if he confesses. I’d really like to be truly safe and know he did it for sure.” Man, I’m being such a pussy- but I can’t risk losing anything, certainly not my son or Justin.  
  
Everyone is looking at me kind of shocked. “But you and Justin were so sure!” Deb avers.  
  
“I know- and I’m still 95% sure. But with the luck I’ve been having lately, that 5% may rear its ugly head,” I sigh.  
  
“Bri- who else could it be?” Justin asks.  
  
“I don’t know. There were a lot of nurses, mostly male, in and out so to speak- and Justin you were with me by my bedside the whole time. I just don’t want to take any risks with you or Gus.”  
  
“So, ask Mel to come down with Gus?” Linds asks.  
  
“Just till we hear for sure from the cops. I’m sorry guys- I just can’t afford to lose anyone.” I feel so stupid right now.  
  
Justin sighs. “I guess Brian’s right. We only have a strong suspicion it was Bill. There were a lot of people at the hospital, many of whom took an interest in Brian. Fuck Brian- get plastic surgery and make yourself uglier.”  
  
“You wouldn’t like that. And you certainly had your fair share of admirers, yourself,” I retort.  
  
I lead Sunshine into the bedroom and thank everyone before closing our door. Who'd ever think I'd get tired of being stuck in the *bedroom*?  
  



End file.
